Alianne
by Anne Boleyn
Summary: After fighting with her mother over dying her hair, Alianne runs away, only to find herself involved in murder, love, seduction, and the powerful chase for a crown that could destroy them all...RR! FINISHED
1. The Hair

**Title:** Alianne (oh, how _original_)

**Rating:** PG-13, maybe R later

**Warnings:** Language, violence, an implied sexual encounter which is quite disgusting

**Disclaimer:** Alianne, the Tortallans, and the Copper Isles belong to Tamora Pierce.  All the Copper Islanders were created expressively for this fic by me, and I will be most displeased if you use them without permission.

**Pairings:** Alianne/Casimiro

**A/N:** Ok, I know by now most everyone's heard the rumor about the plot of the Alianne books…so I won't repeat it.  Anyway, I was intrigued and being the impatient person that I am, I really didn't want to wait for the books.  So, while I was watching _The Mummy Returns_, this random thought came to me…and it developed into a fic.  Enjoy!

Part One: The Hair 

            Fifteen-year-old Alianne of Pirate's Swoop looked fondly out over the sea.  _Thank the Goddess I'm finally home, _she said to herself.  _After five years of hell…_

            Though, of course, it could have been worse.  Most girls spent six years in the convents before going to Court to find a husband.  Alianne, whom everyone called Ali, had impressed the Daughters in the City of the Gods so much that she'd only spent five years learning how to be a lady.  _As if it worked_, she thought, thinking of her latest act of rebellion.  _Oh well, it was just for fun…and besides, next time I see my mother it'll have washed out._  

            She flicked her large violet eyes towards the castle of Pirate's Swoop, just visible in the distance.  _Hopefully neither one of them is home_.  Alianne crossed her fingers, and pulled her hood up further.  Nodding to the four guards who accompanied her, she signaled them to keep going.

            It was dark when they reached the castle gates.  Squinting up at the towers, Ali couldn't see whether or not her parents were home.  She pulled her cloak around herself, trying to fight the crisp, wintry air.  With all luck, her mother and father were still in Corus…

            "Ali!"  Her twin brother's voice met her ears.  Trying not to cry, she practically threw herself at him.  In the act of this, the hood fell from her head.

            Alan whistled.  "I guess five years up north did nothing for you."  He gestured to her blue hair.  "Ma's gonna have a cow."

            "She's here?"

            "Yep.  Our loving parents arrived yesterday."  Alianne sucked in her breath.  "Christ, Ali, what possessed you?"

            "Nothing possessed me…on my way home I stopped to visit Thom at the university.  Most of _his_ friends had dyed their hair…and they offered to do mine.  It's nothing permanent…" She paused, and then frowned.  "'Christ?'  Alan, are you a Christian now?"

            He shook his head as he pulled up her cloak's hood and led her inside the castle.  "No, but I worked with some Christian agents a few months ago…their swears just stuck with me, I guess."  Alan was Myles's favorite grandchild, and Ali could only imagine why.  He was sly, charming, witty, and exceptionally intelligent: the perfect spy.  "Wait, Ali, how long'll it take you to wash that crap out of your hair?"

            "It's not crap, Alan," she replied crossly as she took her cloak off.  "And it should only take a few days.  So, where are they now?"

            "Oh, gods, most likely asleep.  They returned well after midnight last night, and both had to be up and about all day long.  Though," he added slyly, "with those two, you never know…"

            Alianne made a face as she hit her brother.  "Alan, you are _disgusting!_  Gods, I don't even want to _think_ about that!"

            "Think about what?"  The twins froze at the cold voice that penetrated the entrance hall.  "And by the Goddess, Alianne, what did you do to your hair?"

            "Mother, how nice to see you again," Ali began sweetly before she was brusquely cut off.

            "That tone of voice won't work with me.  Now, you had better give me a good reason why your hair is blue, or I swear to the Goddess…"

            Ali paled slightly.  Her mother, still fully dressed, regarded her with crossed arms, unmasked fury apparent in her eyes.

            "I…well, I…" She took a deep breath, trying to think of an explanation that wouldn't incriminate her older brother in any way.  There wasn't one.  _Sorry, Thom,_ she added silently, before beginning.

            "Well, I was visiting Thom at the university on the way home…and some of his friends told me that hair dyed blue, purple, green…well, you get the idea…is the latest fashion.  And when they offered to dye mine, I said yes.  It's temporary!  I promise!"

            Her mother raised a single eyebrow.  "Your brother let them do that to you?  He let you _humiliate_ yourself like that?  And you agreed to this?  I don't care if the dye is temporary."  Her eyes narrowed.  "Alan, go to bed.  Now.  You, come with me."

            Ali followed her mother up several staircases and down a hallway where they stopped in front of the door to her father's study.  Not bothering to be polite and knock, Alanna slammed open the door, dragging Alianne into the room.  Her father, sitting at his desk reading a document, looked up.  While his face appeared grim, his hazel eyes danced with amusement.  

            "Look what she's done," Alanna snapped.  "Her hair!  It's _blue!"_  

            "Yes, Alanna, I can see that," George replied as he looked at the daughter he hadn't seen in five years.  "Very…interesting."  He returned to the papers in front of him.

            Alanna made an exasperated noise.  "Goddess, George, don't you care?"  Turning back to Alianne, she shook her head.  "Jonathan's children would _never_ do anything this stupid."

            "Why didn't you marry him instead, then?  You had the chance, didn't you?"  Alianne was starting to feel the anger rising.

            "_I_ would never have dyed my hair blue!  Nor have ever done half the things you have!"

            "Oh, please," Ali replied caustically, "we aren't so different.  After all, we both know what it's like to grow up without a mother."

            George raised his eyebrows.  Before he could speak, however, Alanna snapped, "How dare you!"

            "What?  I've been home for, oh, ten minutes…you haven't seen me in five years.  You haven't even said hello to me!"  Alianne resisted the urge to burst into tears.  "I'm fifteen years old, not seven!  I can make my own decisions!  I'm not a child!"  She spun around on her heel and marched out of the room.  Though Alianne knew that one remark to her mother was unfair, she couldn't feel any remorse.  _Fine,_ she thought, enraged.  _I'm out of here…I am not going to endure her endless criticism._  

            She raced down to the stables, saddled her horse, mounted, and rode out the gates.  Riding alongside the ocean at night _was_ frightening, but Alianne was too angry to do anything but fume.  She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the rock come crashing down onto her head.

            The first thing she heard was the sound of seagulls and the crashing of waves.  Then, voices.

            "I told you, His Lordship won't be happy with us…"

            "Oh, shut up.  It's not like the wench is anyone of consequence.  Just some common brat riding around at night.  Stupid girl had it coming to her, if you ask me!"

            "Who says anyone is?  I don't care what you think.  It could cause a war to take a slave from Tortall!"

            Slave?  Alianne knew enough not to make any noises.  It was clear these two men thought she was still out cold.

            "Look at her…she's gorgeous.  His Lordship won't be able to resist such a beauty!"

            "Well, I guess you're right…she's alright-looking."

            "Alright?  She's pretty enough to tempt even old Cebrian!"  Cebrian…something in Alianne's mind flickered.  She should know that name.

            "Oh, His Majesty's so lecherous that _anything_ female'll arouse him…but His Lordship's a different story…"

            King Cebrian!  Alianne's mind began to race.  Cebrian was king of the Copper Isles, and the father of the princess her mother had killed at Jonathan's coronation.  What was her name?  Josiane.  _I'd better not mention that,_ she thought wryly.  _It might not make me too popular…Wait!  What am I doing on a boat?_

            She opened her eyes slightly and saw two Copper Islanders standing near her.  She was in chains against a wall.  The two men eyed her greedily.  One of them actually had the nerve to walk over and run his hand up her thigh.

            "Get off me, you slime!" she snapped, attempting to kick him.  The man laughed as he took a step closer to her.  To Alianne's great disgust, he put his mouth on hers and shoved his tongue down her throat, stifling her screams.

            "Good grief, Beniamino, enough," a well-educated, aristocratic voice said from the door.  "Leave the poor _estimada_ alone."  A well-dressed, handsome nobleman entered.  He was young, and his face had great kindness, though Alianne was still wary of him.

            The two men bowed, both mumbling, "My lord."  They exited, to Ali's great relief.  She turned back to the noble.

            "My father will have your head for this," she snapped.  "He's the Baron of Pirate's Swoop and one of His Majesty's most trusted advisors!"

            The man laughed.  "Then your mother would be the famed Alanna the Lioness, I take it?"  Taking her silence to mean yes, he continued.  "Allow me to introduce myself, my lady.  My name is Casimiro, and the princess Josiane was my aunt.  My mother was daughter to the king as well."  He smiled kindly.  "I do thank your mother for ridding us of my aunt.  She wasn't a stable person."  He studied her for a moment, his eyes sliding up and down her body as smoothly as butter.  Alianne blushed deeply.

            "Do I make you uncomfortable, _mi estimada?_  Forgive me for asking, but what brings you to my ship?  You do know that you are now legally my slave."

            She shuddered.  "I had a fight with my mother, Your Lordship, and I was heading for Corus when they found me."

            "Let me guess…it had to do with the rather unordinary shade of your hair."  She smiled.  "Well, Lady…"

            "Alianne."

            "Lady Alianne, you are welcome to join me.  Given as you've been asleep for three days, we are closer to the Copper Isles than to Tortall.  After we've rested a few days at my villa, I shall see to it that you are on the next boat bound for Port Caynn."

(A/N: I _promise_ the next chapter will be longer…I think it's a little more than obvious that Alianne _doesn't_ return to Tortall…at least not immediately.  But, heck, what kind of a fic would it be if she didn't?)  


	2. La Casa de Arenas Blancas

Part Two: La Casa de Arenas Blancas 

            As the ship approached the coast of the Copper Isles, Alianne's breath was taken away.  Lush, tropical forests covered the lowlands.  Earlier, Casimiro had told her that towards the center, the land grew higher and colder.  

            "That is where I live," Casimiro pointed out as he came to stand beside her.  Alianne followed his gaze to a large villa on the coast.  "At least, when I am not at Court.  My grandfather requires my presence there at Midwinter and Beltane.  Other than that, I am free to do as I please."

            "Do you not _like_ Court?"  Ali was puzzled slightly.  Casimiro seemed like the kind of person who would live there year-round.  "I know I certainly do."

            The marquis (for she had finally conned him into telling her his title) sighed slightly.  "I can see how you would.  I find myself lost…I get no attention whatsoever, and when I do, my grandfather is comparing me to my uncles or my male cousins.  We have a large family."

            Ali chose not to reply, instead focusing all her attention on the land in front of her.  When she looked at the Copper Isles before her, she felt an odd sense that she couldn't quite put her finger on.  _Homecoming?  That can't be right…I've never been here before in my life._

            Casimiro puzzled her…he was kind in a way that made her feel somewhat uncomfortable.  Yet, if he sensed her discomfort, he would back off.  Alianne frowned slightly.  _He's so nice to me.  But why?  He barely knows me!_

            Little did she know, but Alianne confused Casimiro as much as he confused her.  Casimiro had never met a lady like her, and she was a lady, for she'd been living of late at the convent of the Mother of Mountains in the City of the Gods.  He expected the only daughter of the Lioness to be somewhat more like her.  He, along with the other members of his grandfather's Court, had heard about the feisty King's Champion and her fiery temperament.

            "We're a lot alike in that respect," Alianne remarked thoughtfully when Casimiro asked her about her mother's temper.  "We both tend to say things we don't mean, and then we regret them later.  It's just…I feel like I can't go back."

            "Why?"  

            She flinched.  "I said something awful to her right before I left…it's just, I feel so bad, you know?  I can't apologize, because I meant what I said; yet it was so awful, she can't forgive me.  I guess where my mother is concerned I'm between a rock and a hard place with nowhere to go."

            Casimiro tried to comfort her, but it was to no avail.  He got the feeling that whatever had happened between the girl and her mother, it wasn't entirely Alianne's fault.

            The next morning, their vessel reached the docks adjoining Casimiro's villa.  He couldn't resist feeling a rush of pride as Alianne looked about with wide eyes.

            "Goddess, this is beautiful!" she exclaimed as she examined some of the tropical plants on the way up to the house.  "You live in paradise!"

            Casimiro laughed at that last remark.  "Have you ever been here in the summer?  It's hot as hell, as the Christians would say."

            When they reached the front doors of the villa, Casimiro gave a mock bow.  "Dé la bienvenida a la Casa de Arenas Blancas, mi dama."  Noting the puzzled look on her face, he added, "Welcome to the Casa de Arenas Blancas, my lady."

            She scowled.  "I can speak your language, you twit.  I was wondering why you named it the 'house of white sands.'"

            "I'll have to show you.  But first, we eat."  Alianne was shown to a large, airy room where she found an entire wardrobe full of clothes.

            _Something tells me I'm not his first female visitor,_ she thought with only a touch of jealousy.  _Oh, who cares?  I might as well enjoy myself._  She bathed and changed into a gown of white linen.  With a high waist, tight sleeves, and a full skirt, she certainly looked presentable.  Leaving her long blonde hair (the maids had scrubbed the blue dye out) cascading down her back, Alianne set out to find Casimiro.  He was lounging beside a small table set for two on large veranda facing the sea.  The marquis motioned for her to take a seat, and she obeyed, looking out over the Emerald Ocean.

            "This is breathtaking," she half-whispered.  Casimiro raised his wine glass in a toast.

            "So are you," he said coyly, thoroughly enjoying her blush.  "I'll wager that you will break dozens of hearts at the Tortallan Court."

            Alianne threw back her head with unladylike laughter.  "Hardly.  My brothers would kill anyone who showed any interest in me."

            "Then put me down for execution by their swords, my lady."  He took her hand and kissed it gently.  "For I would certainly be willing to die for your love."

            "Oh please, good sir, keep your distance!  We've known each other, what, two days?  And already you're pledging your life to me?  I'd say you've had too much to drink."

            "This is my first glass," he protested.  "And do you not believe in love at first sight?  I certainly do."

            Alianne paled, and looked into Casimiro's large brown eyes, hoping to see his jest.  It frightened her, for he appeared totally serious.  "And as for you returning to Tortall…I refuse to let you.  Unless, of course, it's with me."

            She flushed scarlet and looked down at her feet.  _Is he serious?  Or is he just flirting with me?_

            "Now, let us enjoy our dinner before it gets too cold, shall we?"  

            After dinner, Casimiro took her down to the beach, and immediately Alianne could see why this was called the "House of White Sands."  Unlike the cold, rough beaches of Tortall she had grown up with, this one was gentle, the water warm and inviting.  The sand was as white as the gown she wore.  After that, he led her to a rose-filled garden, where they sipped white wine and watched the sun go down.  It was blissfully peaceful and…romantic.

            Alianne agreed to stay a few days before returning home, but the days turned into weeks, the weeks into months.  At last, they were approaching the festival of Beltane.

            Casimiro frowned at her over dinner late one night.  "It is a requirement that I go, my dear, you must understand that."

            "But…but you're expecting me to go as your _slave?_  Absolutely not!"  Though Casimiro still flirted with her incessantly, they had become good friends.  "Why can't you just present me as a noble's daughter, as I am!"

            He sighed deeply.  "I suppose…well, let me think.  Alianne is hardly a name native to the Copper Isles.  The closest one is Eliana…Eliana de Sade."

            "Eliana de Sade?"

            "I made it up…but that's not the point.  Title?  Eh…Countess."

            She frowned at him over the top of her wine glass.  "Yeah, but won't this grandfather of yours know that isn't a real title?"

            "Oh, come on, Alianne, he doesn't care.  Frankly, he'll be thrilled I'm finally showing up with a girl.  He's been after me to get married for years now."  Casimiro lifted his glass in a toast.  "Come as my betrothed."

            "But that's a lie!"

            "Who says it has to be?"

            Alianne choked as she stared at him, incredulous.  Casimiro stood and offered her his arm.  Trembling, she took it, resisting the urge to faint.  _He is so gorgeous,_ she said to herself.  _Goddess, I just want to…oh, no, don't say that!_

            He sat her down on a bench in the rose garden.  "Certainly you must know how I feel about you by now."

            "I…I…" she tried in vain to find her voice.  "Casimiro, you…you shouldn't say things you don't mean."

            He sat down next to her.  "I would rather die than lead you on falsely, _mi estimada._  I don't care where you are from, and who you were.  I want you for my wife."

            She paled, trying to remember what the Daughters had told the girls in the convent about accepting and declining marriage proposals.  She knew what to say to an unwanted offer…but there was nothing she wanted more now than to say yes.  Casimiro looked at her lovingly, the look in his eyes so intense that Alianne felt her knees go weak.

            "Yes," she whispered.  "I love you, Casimiro."  With that, he swept her up into his arms and kissed her passionately.  When he pulled back, his brown eyes sparkled with joy.

            "You won't regret this, _mi estimada_.  I swear it."

            Over the next several weeks, Alianne felt so unbelievably happy that she knew something awful was going to happen.  And it did, of course, because where would the fun in life be if it didn't?

            Alianne was blown away by the capital of the Copper Isles, Cayetano.  Here, the cultures of the islands met with those of the Eastern and Southern Lands, as well as the Yamani Islands.  The marketplace in the center of the city was far more colorful than the one in Corus.  The royal palace was built in the same style as Casimiro's villa, but on a much grander scale.  As they rode into one of the central courtyards, Alianne noticed the carefree, relaxed atmosphere and the same devil-may-care attitude of the nobles.  

            "Casimiro!  My dear cousin!" A richly dressed, young nobleman walked towards them, his hands outstretched.  "How are you, my friend?"

            "Eladio!" Casimiro jumped down from his horse and embraced the other man warmly.  "Ah, yes, you must meet my fiancée.  This is Lady Eliana de Sade."

            Alianne enjoyed the shocked look in Eladio's eyes as he looked her up and down.  She _knew_ it would be smart to wear the blue gown!  "My lady, I am pleased to meet you."  He suddenly started laughing.  "Mithros, cousin!  Wait until we tell everyone!"

            Casimiro laughed along with his cousin.  Eladio suddenly stopped, his eyes narrowing.  "You might not want to introduce her privately to our dear grandfather.  He's on a mission to find a new wife after Sophia died last year…"

            "What, you think he'll be taken with my dear Al…Eliana?" Casimiro's face darkened.  "I thought he'd be pleased to see me getting married finally."

            Eladio looked away.  "But you remember the fiasco with Sophia and Enrique, don't you?  Grandfather doesn't care about those types of things."

            Casimiro shook his head as he offered Alianne his arm and began to stroll into the palace, Eladio walking on his other side.  "It would shock me if Cebrian tried to pull something that bad, Eladio.  I have nothing to worry about."

            King Cebrian lounged on a golden velvet divan, surrounded by young female slaves and goblets of wine.  His clothes were a dark blue, perfectly matching the color of his eyes.  Alianne could see that while the king had once been handsome, the years had taken their toll.  While his body was well-muscled for a man of his age, his hair was streaked with gray, and his movements were slower.  

            "Casimiro, my boy," he said jovially as he stood.  Alianne liked him immediately.  "And who is this lovely creature?"

            "This, Grandfather, is my fiancée, Lady Eliana de Sade.  She is from one of our more remote islands."

            "Hmm."  The king didn't even question her title.  Alianne found that a little more than odd, but she pushed the thought from her mind as the king stared at her, transfixed.  "You certainly have good taste, Casimiro.  You get that from you mother's family, you know."

            "Of course, Majesty.  Now, if you'll forgive us, Eliana and I have had a long journey, and we wish to rest."

            The king smiled.  "Of course, of course," he replied, waving one hand distractedly.  "Eliana, my dear, we must have more time to talk.  I want to get to know the girl who has captured my ice prince of a grandson's heart."

            Alianne blushed as she dropped a curtsey.  "Of course, Your Majesty."  She followed Casimiro out of the room.

            Cebrian sunk back down into his divan, stroking his chin thoughtfully.  _Eliana,_ he thought.  _What a lovely name.  A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.  Eliana…Queen Eliana._  He smiled.  _I have found her at last._

            Alianne stepped out of the ball that night quietly, looking forward to some peace.  The courtiers had flitted about her, wondering how she had managed to get Casimiro.  _I didn't,_ she thought, rather irritated.  _He was the one who ensnared me, not the other way around!_

            "Things getting to hectic in there for you?"  Alianne spun around to face the king, magnificent in pure gold.

            "No, Majesty, I was enjoying the view."

            Cebrian laughed indulgently.  "Yes, it is lovely, isn't it?  I understand your feelings.  Casimiro is not the most steadfast of lovers, is he?"

            "I'm…I'm afraid I do not know what you mean."

            "Well, he's twenty-three, as you undoubtedly know, and quite the charmer.  It's been sort of a contest for the ladies in the Court to see who could get him to propose.  And now, he comes back betrothed to a beautiful stranger…as you can understand, it's likely to spark jealousy.

            "Casimiro's been engaged several times before, and every time he's broken it off to chase another girl."  The king sighed dramatically.  "Are you positive he's serious about you?"

            Alianne could not find her voice.  She only looked at the king with a shocked expression.

            "Tsk, tsk," the king sounded sympathetic.  "However, my dear, there are alternatives to my grandson."  He lifted her fingers to his lips.  "I, for one, am willing to make you a queen.  Think on it."

            Cebrian left her, standing there on the terrace, looking out over Cayetano, feeling betrayed.

            _I didn't go back to Tortall because of him, _she said to herself, trying not to cry.  _And for what?  To have my heart broken!_  She looked out at Cebrian's retreating back.  _What the hell…I have nothing left to lose!_

            "Your Majesty, wait!"  The king stopped, a smile playing across his lips.  

            "Yes, my dear?"

            She ran up to him, and took a deep breath.  "I thought over what you said…and I don't want to have my heart broken by…_him_.  Yes, I'll marry you."

            Cebrian smiled as he ran a finger down her face lovingly.  "Ah, _mi estimada_, you shall not regret this decision.  I promise it."


	3. The Conspiracy

Warning: Alianne comes off as a major slut in this…but she'll be normal in the next chapter, I promise!  Ah yes, also…you'll notice I write real historical figures into my fics, or at least mention them.  Why, you ask.  I'm a history buff, pure and simple.  I can name the British succession from William the Conqueror to Elizabeth II in order…it's sad.  Ah yes, STRONG LANGUAGE in this chapter!

Part Three: The Conspiracy 

            Alianne lounged on a divan, preparing for a night among the Court.  She drummed scarlet fingernails on the porcelain table as she sipped a glass of French champagne.  _Thank the Goddess for Europe,_ she thought wryly.  _I was beginning to give up on the champagne back home_.

            Back home…she had completely forgotten to go back home!  Alianne sat up suddenly, knocking the champagne to the floor, the glass shattering.  "They probably think I'm dead," she whispered.  "Oh, shit.  Oh well, it's not like I can do anything.  In a few months, I'll be Queen of the Copper Isles, and then they won't be able to do anything."

            With the mention of marriage, Alianne's thoughts turned to Casimiro.  He had turned red with anger and hadn't bothered to keep the bad language out of his words as he'd screamed himself hoarse at her.  She smiled slightly as she settled back on the divan.  _It honestly doesn't matter…once I'm married to Cebrian and am queen, I can take as many lovers as I want, Casimiro included._

            At the same time, Casimiro paced his bedroom, trying to think of what to do.  He was furious that his grandfather had stolen his fiancée by feeding her lies about his past.  So what, he'd been engaged before…it was only once!  And the girl was an idiot…

            He really was in love with Alianne.  She made him feel the way no woman ever had before…and now, to lose her to his _grandfather.  _The thought was so disgusting he actually had thrown up when he found out.  Casimiro's cousin, Enrique, had tried to comfort him, for he was the only one who really understood.  Four years earlier, Cebrian had married Sophia, Enrique's fiancée, secretly.  His exuberant cousin was crushed beyond repair.

            Casimiro looked down at the wine glass in his hand, trying to think of a solution.  He thought of his extravagant, opulent grandfather…the man who ordered slaves to be taken from nations in the Eastern Lands, who raised taxes by twenty percent so he could build a new palace specifically for the Beltane festival.  Cebrian was hardly the most popular monarch…no one would be too upset if he died.  Casimiro frowned slightly, thinking of his uncles.  Not a single one of them was fit to rule the country.  Casimiro personally thought they were idiots, but he kept his opinions to himself most of the time.  His grandfather had been hinting at naming one of his grandsons his successor…now all Casimiro needed to do was make sure it was him.  

            Later that night, Casimiro asked his grandfather to join him on the terrace.  Cebrian followed, looking irritated.

            "Gods, Casimiro, if this has anything to do with the little whore, I swear…"

            Though he flinched at Cebrian's slur, Casimiro did not comment on it.  "No, Majesty, this has nothing to do with her.  I was thinking…being king is dangerous.  There are many who would see you killed every day, and yet our nation is at risk because you have not named your successor.  You have seven sons, Majesty, and the last think the Copper Isles needs is a war between them over the throne.  I myself would sleep much easier every night if I knew there was a designated heir."

            "You know, Casimiro, you are right." Cebrian sighed as he settled himself on a bench.  "None of my sons are fit to rule, either…though my three grandsons are.  I have been meaning to tell you this for a while, but I want to name one of you as my heir."

            "Yes, Majesty," Casimiro replied blandly, knowing his grandfather preferred him over Eladio and Enrique, "but which one of us will it be?"

            "That is the question, isn't it, my boy?  I think you already know the answer.  I have decided to name you my heir, though both Eladio and Enrique will undoubtedly hold high positions in your reign?"

            "Absolutely."

            Cebrian put his hand on Casimiro's shoulder.  "I thank you for approaching me about this…especially when you are so concerned for my safety.  Now, let us go announce this to the Court."

            Casimiro was right in guessing that his grandfather's courtiers would not be surprised.  Eladio and Enrique were satisfied as well when they heard of the places they would hold in the government.  Only Alianne looked at him suspiciously, as if she knew his real reason for forcing his grandfather to name him successor.  _When I am king, _he thought, _and she is my queen, she will thank me._

            Things moved slowly in the days approaching Beltane.  Alianne felt disgustingly lazy, just lying around not doing anything.  The habits of home were still with her somewhat, so she could not just sit all day and gossip.  

            "You would have found yourself doing the same thing at the Tortallan Court," a voice behind her said.  Alianne whirled around to face Casimiro.

            "Are my feelings that obvious?"

            He motioned for her to sit back down.  "Not to everyone, but I can tell when you're bored.  And," he added impishly, "when you're unhappy."

            "Who says I'm unhappy?"

            "Your eyes," he replied softly.  "I see the pain in your eyes…you miss your friends and family in Tortall, do you not?  You feel guilty for staying here, for not informing them that you are alive."

            "D'you know what would have happened if I had sent word?" she asked, her voice growing high.  "They would've made me come home!  If not my parents, Jonathan.  Our two countries are not on the best of terms, as you well know."

            "Listen, Alianne," he whispered in a voice that made her look at him, and only him, "I am going to give you a chance right now to become queen…not Cebrian's queen, my queen.  Then, you can go back and see your family in Tortall.  But I need you to help me."

            "Help you _what?"_  Her voice was suspicious.  

            "Get rid of Cebrian," he answered frankly.  "Goddess, Ali, the man is a criminal!  He steals from the poorest of the poor just so he can build his palaces and laze around, doing nothing but fucking whores!  Excuse my French.  Listen, Ali, he named me his successor!  I'm next in line…and all we need to do is get rid of him in a natural-seeming way.  And you're going to help me."

            "How?"

            "There's a poison that slowly kills.  You don't know you're dying until three days or so after you've taken it.  Only, his drinks are so heavily guarded…we'd never get it in.  But I have thought of a way, and it involves you…"

            She scowled.  "What's the catch, Cas?"

            He paled slightly.  "How'd you know there's a catch?"

            "Cause there's _always_ a catch…what is it?"

            Casimiro looked away, knowing he didn't want to ask her to do what he needed her to.  "Ok, Ali, you're going to hate me, but…"

            "Goddess, Cas, I might be willing to do some things, but I _will not do that_, d'you understand me?  Absolutely _not!"_

            "Well, if you don't do this now," he snapped, "then you'll be stuck doing it for the rest of your life.  Did you think if that?"

            Alianne looked away, knowing he was right.  _Dammit,_ she thought bitterly.  _I'm between a rock and a hard place with nowhere to go.  Fuck._  "Ok, fine," she said finally.  "I'll do it…but when?"

            "Beltane."

            "What if he doesn't buy it?"

            Casimiro laughed.  "My grandfather, refuse a woman?  You must be joking, my darling.  Just remember, you're doing this for the good of the Copper Isles…and for the good of us."

            Alianne wrinkled her nose.  Something in the back of her mind told her that she was going to regret this decision…but she decided to go along with it anyway.  After all, if they succeeded, Casimiro would be king, and she would be free to marry him.  

            Beltane dawned bright and fair.  The daytime celebrations were wonderful, but Alianne was too much of a nervous wreck to enjoy them.  As Cebrian's betrothed, she was basically queen, and served as one during the festivals.  At the ball that night, Casimiro slipped a tiny vial into her hands while they were waltzing around the room.

            "Make sure it dissolves completely into the wine," he whispered.  "Otherwise it won't work."

            She nodded, making a mental note of his instructions.  Slipping the vial down the front of her dress after the dance, Alianne ignored the discomfort during the rest of the ball.  Though, of course, the placement of the vial actually took her mind off of the bone-crushing corset she wore.  She could hardly take in half a breath at once!  The effect was dazzling, as her waist looked as tiny as a gold noble.  Alianne took a deep breath.  It was time…

            _Maybe I won't actually have to do anything, _she thought frantically.  _Maybe he'll pass out…gods know he's had enough to drink tonight!_

            It appeared luck was not on her side that night.  Cebrian had all but ordered her to his bed.  She went, of course, knowing that kings did not take it well when they were disobeyed.  

            Days later, Alianne still shuddered when she remembered the painful experience that it was.  She had all but recoiled under his touch, trying to think of Casimiro…of anything but what was happening at the moment.  It was only a touch short of rape, in her opinion, though she was successful in getting Cebrian to drink the wine later…now it was only a matter of time before they knew…

            A courier rode hard through the streets of Corus, knowing that his message was a vital one that must reach King Jonathan and Queen Thayet.  He dismounted, handed his reins to a hostler, and walked directly towards Jonathan's council chamber.  Not bothering to knock on the door, he strode in, much to the shock of the various nobles gathered around the table.

            Kneeling next to Jonathan's chair, he said swiftly, "From our agents in the Copper Isles, Majesty."

            The king nodded, and the courier took his exit as suddenly as he had come.  The council looked expectantly up at Jonathan as he read the message, all the while his face growing paler and paler.

            "King Cebrian has died, naming his grandson Casimiro his successor," Jon announced, putting the paper back down on the table.  "Casimiro and his fiancée Eliana are to be crowned at the next full moon."

            "Not wasting any time, are they?" George remarked thoughtfully.  "He's up to something."

            Gary laughed.  "You're paranoid, George.  We wanted Casimiro on the throne…he's always been an ally of ours."

            "Casimiro has," Myles replied, "but I've heard rumors of this Eliana.  She's ambitious, and she has her eye on the Eastern Lands.  At her orders, the Copper Isles has already taken several islands previously belonging to Carthak.  She's young, strong, healthy, and apparently very beautiful.  All powerful weapons in Casimiro's hands."

            Jon looked at his spymaster skeptically.  "You honestly think Casimiro and this Eliana want to create an empire?  They haven't the armies, nor the wealth."

            "That's where you're wrong, Jon," George corrected.  "Cebrian was no fool…he has been building up an army and collecting taxes from his subjects for five years now."

            "What?  Why was I not informed of this?"

            Raoul raised an eyebrow.  "You mean you didn't _know?"_

            "No!  Who else knows this?"

            "Jon," Alanna said, trying not to laugh, "_everyone _knows…they had a debate on the pros and cons of the influence of the Copper Isles at the university months ago.  We just assumed you knew."

            "Well…well, I didn't," he snapped.  "I've been busy the past few years, in case you haven't noticed!  I have two children getting married, and three other marriages to set up.  It's not like I have time to listen to idle Court gossip."

            His council laughed, causing Jonathan to only grow angrier.  He hated being made a fool of, especially in front of the group of people he was with now, for unlike some, they wouldn't let him live it down.

            "Well, fine then, if you want to make fun of me, go ahead.  Gary, arrange for some kind of gift to be sent or something…we want Casimiro to know that he has an ally in Tortall."

A/N: Ok, ok, I keep saying the chapters are going to get longer, and they are!  I promise!  It's just, I don't have all the time in the world…those of you pressuring me to get a chapter out every day, please understand that I simply can't!  I don't sit at my computer all day and write fics!  I have a job, and I have somewhat of a social life (yeah, right…whatever).  Ok, I will make Part Four longer…I swear on the Holy Bible, I will!  Not to mention it gets interesting…yes, there will be some contact between Alianne and the Tortallans in Part Five.  Also, the next chapter might come out a little later as I am in the middle of _Tragic Kingdom_…which I am devoting more of my time to, since I just love the story so much.  Ok, well, see y'all!  I love you!


	4. The People's Queen

A/N: Yes!  I _love_ this chapter…it is so much fun to write!  And yes…Neal and Alan do _not_ like each other at all!  You'll see why later in the chapter!  Ah yes, slight A/J in this chapter, even though I _hate_ A/J…unless it's pre-break up A/J.  A/G all the way! Part Four: The People's Queen 

            The first year of Casimiro and Alianne's reign was peaceful.  Alianne worked as hard as she could to abolish slavery and cut taxes for the lower classes.  She was nicknamed "The People's Queen," though she knew enough about human nature and politics not to alienate the nobles.  Instead, she nullified the law that stated every noble had to be present at Court for six months of the year.  Casimiro had been one of the few exceptions to this rule under his grandfather's reign.  Now, the nobles were only required to attend the Midwinter and Beltane festivals.  For this, the aristocracy also glorified her.

            The high point of the year, however, was the birth of Princess Elena.  Pale-skinned, with raven-black hair and her mother's large violet eyes, the princess captured the hearts of the Court and the common people alike.  No one even mentioned that the child was not a boy…instead, Casimiro named Elena his heir in the case that a male child was not born.  Alianne was relieved to see that unlike the Tortallans, the Copper Islanders had no reservations about a female monarch.

            While his wife was busy winning the hearts of her subjects, Casimiro was building a vast army, one to rival even Carthak's.  This army would be the launch of his great empire.  He and Alianne spent countless hours debating over which nation to conquer first.  They eventually reached the conclusion that there was one country that offered a prime starting-off point: Tortall.

            Alianne had contacts who sent to her maps leading in and out of the Tortallan palace.  Every night, the war council conferred on the best time of year to take the capital.  For two years, they debated this, until they were approaching Beltane…the two-year anniversary of Casimiro and Alianne's ascension to the throne.  By this time, Alianne's newfound ambition had grown to such a level that she herself was the one motivated to take Corus.  Casimiro sat back and governed his lands while his wife planned their attack.

            All the while, Tortall knew something was wrong.  Normally, Copper Isles pirates attacked up and down the coasts during spring.  Having heard the rumors about the young queen's desire to rule an empire as great as Rome, Jonathan dispatched several of his top agents, sending with them several trained knights, including Keladry of Mindelan and Neal of Queenscove.  They were to be acting as bodyguards to the top agent…Alan of Pirate's Swoop.  All three of them were unhappy about this arrangement.  

            "I did _not_ spend eight years training as a _knight_ to act as someone's _bodyguard_," Neal hissed at Alan.

            "Yeah, well, you think I actually _want _an armed escort?  Fine, you don't want to be bodyguards?  Then you act as spies, and you obey _my_ orders!  Got it?"  Neal was strongly reminded of Alanna.  He and Kel nodded.

            "This should be fun," Kel said cheerfully on the ship.  

            Neal scowled at her.  "Not only are we missing Beltane in Corus, but we have to spend it creeping around the Copper Isles.  Not my ideal vacation.  Not to mention we have to spend it with the most arrogant person known to man!"

            "I _like_ Alan…he's funny."

            "Women," Neal retorted.  "You only like him because he's _handsome._  Yeah, well, you and every other girl at Court.  Get in line, Kel."

            "Sounds to me like someone's a little jealous!" She elbowed him.  "Besides, you don't have to worry…he's three years younger than me.  I don't do that."

            "Well, there's a first time for everything," he shot back, enjoying the sour look on her face.  After Kel stormed off, Neal looked out over the ocean, where the Copper Isles were now visible on the horizon.

            "Neal!  Hey, Nealan!"

            "Hay is for horses," Neal snapped as he walked over to where Alan stood.  "What?"

            "Gods, what's gotten into you?  We're almost there, so we have to go under."

            Neal scowled.  "Why?  I wanted to actually see Cayetano when we pulled in."

            "Because we're undercover, that's why," Alan replied blandly.  "They don't know we're coming…this isn't a visit of State."

            Neal grumbled as he followed Alan down into the cargo room.  "Wait, we have to _hide?"_

            "Sweet Judas, Neal," Alan yelled, "just shut up and do what I say!"

            Neal shut up and sat behind a crate of what looked to be apples.  About five minutes later, a thought occurred to him.  

"Hey, Alan…who's Judas?"

            Alianne read over the various proposals, signing the ones she liked, burning the ones she despised.  She had signed about two, and burned fifty or so.  Placing the remainder of the papers on the desk, she stood up from her chair, stretched, and walked out the door.  It had been so long since she'd seen her daughter for more than five minutes…the proposals could wait.

            She found Elena sound asleep in her bed.  Alianne laughed quietly, wishing she could do the same.  She gently stroked her daughter's long black hair, when suddenly her eyes narrowed.  The memory came back to her all at once…she was fourteen again, in the convent…

_            "Things have been getting worse and worse between them," one of the girls whispered.  "I heard that the king and queen won't speak to each other anymore!"_

_            "Ooooh, why?" the other girls had gasped._

_            "Well, you know that Princess Kalasin wanted to be the first female page, right?  When her father talked her out of it, he cut a deal with her, saying she'd be able to choose her husband.  Well, apparently, she met Emperor Kaddar, and she can't stand him!"_

_            "No!"_

_            "So, she tells her father that she doesn't want to marry him, and that he said she would have a choice.  Well, Thayet goes ballistic, shouting about a princess's duty and all that.  But Jonathan listened to Kalasin, saying that since it was her life concerned, he'd try to break the marriage contract.  Thayet said he'd do it over her dead body and stormed out."_

_            "Don't you have any real gossip, Catherine?" The other girls were growing impatient._

_            "Yeah, I'm getting to it!  So, apparently, the king and queen can't even be in the same room together…but d'you know who the king's having an affair with?  Alanna the Lioness!"_

_            All the girls gasped.  Alianne bit her lip, trying not to lose her temper.  Catherine turned to her.  "Well, Ali?  Is it true?"_

_            "Absolutely not!" Alianne's eyes snapped with fury.  "And it's preposterous that you would even _suggest _such a thing!"_

            Even though Alianne had always known that the rumors were mostly false, she had always wondered about her mother and the king.  They were very close, and they spent a lot of time together…not to mention they'd once been lovers.  Alianne had conned her into confessing that one day.  Her daughter looked like it should be their child…Jonathan's pale skin and black hair, Alanna's violet eyes.  Alianne, with her tan skin and golden hair hardly looked like Elena's mother, though the eyes were a dead giveaway.  Casimiro was also tanned, though their hair was the same silky shade of black.  Elena, however, looked like a Conté…she even had the tall, lanky build.  Alianne scowled.  No, it was impossible…

            She put the awful thought from her mind.  To even think for one second that her father was, well, Jonathan was too much for her to take.  Running swiftly to her chambers, she poured herself a glass of the strongest brandy she could find.  _Who cares if I get drunk, _she thought defiantly.  _It's better than thinking like this…_

            Alianne looked up, five hours later, and remembered that Beltane was that night.  _Oh, damn, I have to get ready!_

            "Catalina!  Catalina!"  The lady-in-waiting was nowhere to be found.  Rolling her eyes, Alianne ran to her dressing room and began to look through her gowns.  "Dammit," she cursed out loud, "what in the Goddess's name am I going to wear tonight?"

            After about a half hour of deliberation, she settled on the white and silver gown, the one that had been a gift from the king and queen of France.  "Thank the gods Eleanor of Aquitaine has taste," Alianne muttered as she pulled the gown over her head, "or else I'd be stuck wearing the latest fashions from places like Tortall."  She shuddered as she thought of the gowns that the ladies of the Court wore.

            Casimiro burst through the doors.  "You know, Alianne, it doesn't take that long to get ready!  Hurry up!"

"Oh, damn you," she shot back as she put her shoes on.  "You're always so rushed!  Relax!  It's not like they're going to do anything without us.  It's Beltane, Cas…tonight is supposed to be fun, not stressful."

            Grumbling as he followed her, Casimiro obviously disagreed.  "We have a strategic planning meeting tomorrow," he reminded her as the walked towards the ballroom.  "Every year Jonathan grows only stronger and stronger.  His dynasty is secured, now that Roald has a son."

            Alianne stopped dead in her tracks.  "What?  How…oh, the Yamani princess…I see.  How old is this child?"

            "About six months older than our Elena," he answered nonchalantly.  "I have been thinking about contracting a marriage alliance between the two."

            "Let me get this straight…you want our Elena to marry Jonathan's grandson, while at the same time you attempt to overthrow him?  It doesn't make sense!"

            Casimiro sighed and made her face him.  "You think I want any daughter of mine marrying _his_ descendant?  No, Alianne, it is a farce.  We shall make Jonathan believe that he is our ally by pulling up this contract between us…that way, he will be taken totally by surprise by our attack."  He nodded at the look of dawning on her face.  "The emperor of the Yamani Islands was a fool…he could have easily taken Tortall at any time.  Meanwhile, we must ally ourselves with the Bazhir."

            "They will never follow us," she whispered.  "Jonathan is the Voice of the Tribes, and the Bazhir are not permitted to war against the Voice.  It is a sacred law that not a single one of them would break…not even for all the money in the world."

            "D'you think I have not thought of that, _mi flor pequeña?_  Though in the beginning of his reign, Jonathan was kind to the tribesmen, lately, he has been falling under the influence of the conservative members of his Court.  They despise the Bazhir…and lately, a law has been passed to restrict their movements.  Do you see?  Jonathan is repressing the very people he was chosen to liberate!  To lead!  In the Bazhir code, if the Voice breaks one of their laws, then they are permitted to elect a new leader.  Before we attack Tortall we must weaken it…civil war is the only way."

            Alianne frowned slightly, taking in his words.  She knew Casimiro was right…if they had the support of the Bazhir, they would easily take Tortall.  Only, if she went along with her husband's plan, she would undo everything her own mother had worked for.  But, her ambitious mind realized, even that could be turned to her advantage.  The Bedouin-like tribesmen would listen to the daughter of the Woman Who Rides Like a Man…they would accept her leadership.  Casimiro's plans immediately made sense.  A smile devoid of any warmth or kindness played across her lips.  Her violet eyes glittered triumphantly, an expression which slightly frightened Casimiro. 

            "It is a most excellent idea," Alianne said coldly.  "Cut the nation in half…and then we shall see how long Jonathan can hold onto his throne."

A/N: Ok, I'm posting two chapters today…originally, the next chapter was the other half of Part Four, but I really felt that it was a good place to end the chapter…you know, the line above.  God, Alianne is turning out kinda evil…but again, that's what ambition does to you!


	5. Familiar Faces

Part Five: Familiar Faces 

            Beltane had never been Alan's favorite holiday.  He found it rather primitive and superstitious that people actually thought jumping over a fire would help conceive a child.  _For Mithros' sake,_ he thought, very annoyed, _just go fuck each other…then you'll get a baby!_  Actually, what he _really_ hated was that on this day, everyone acted, well, romantic with each other.  To him, it was fine to be all giggly and besotted when you were fifteen, sixteen years old, but absolutely _not_ when you were an adult.  Especially not people he knew…for example, his parents.  He despised that show of affection more than anything in the world, besides perhaps the king and queen.

            Alan of Pirate's Swoop was a complicated individual.  With his blond hair, slightly tan skin, and bright green eyes, he was certainly one of the more popular young men at Court…only he hated all the fawning girls.  The stupid, simpering, giggling girls…did they actually think acting like a fool was attractive?  Instead, he liked intelligent girls, girls who could carry on a conversation.  Two of his best friends were girls.  Princess Kalasin and her younger sister, Princess Lianne, were both the witty, intelligent women that Alan found desirable.  Only, he'd never show it because one, Kalasin was older than him; and two, they were like sisters.  It would be too strange…it was a thought that not one of them had ever really allowed to become words.  Instead, Alan had to put up with the stupid ladies all the time.  The ladies whom Alianne had always made fun of in her letters to him during those five years at the convent.

            Of everyone, Alan missed his sister the most.  After all, what is a twin to do without their other half?  Alianne was clever, entertaining, beautiful…and everyone loved her.  They couldn't help it.  However, Alan knew her better than everyone, he knew her one vice: ambition.  Alianne had always craved attention as a child, and that gave way to her need for power.  Power over servants, power over commoners, power over nobles, and eventually the power over the king and queen.  With her smile, she was able to get anything she wanted.  Alianne, like Alan, was very curious about the world outside the Eastern and Southern Lands.  She loved to hear about Europe and Rome, especially gossip about the rulers who reigned supreme in those lands.  Alianne desired to be a great ruler, just like her idol, Matilda of Normandy.  However, unlike her role model, she actually would be queen.  Her dreams and goals always brought a smile to everyone's face…only Alan knew that his sister was truly determined to _be_ queen.

            He brought himself back to the present.  Standing in the grand ballroom at the Copper Isles palace, Alan certainly looked the part of a wealthy noble.  Next to him stood Keladry of Mindelan, dressed as a lady.  Though they were the same height at five feet, ten inches, they still looked good together.  Their matching colors of green and silver complemented his emerald eyes and her hazel ones.  Alan tried to see around a group of nobles to the thrones where King Casimiro and Queen Eliana sat, but they were too tall.  _Damn being short_, he thought bitterly.  His height had always been a point of teasing, especially by his older brother, Roald, and Liam…all of whom were six feet, one inch.  Even Jasson, who was considered short by everyone else, was an inch and a half taller than Alan.  Neal topped him by three inches, as did pretty much everyone else.  _Oh well,_ Alan comforted himself, _Thom got the height, I got the brains._

            Not that his brother didn't have brains…in fact, quite the opposite.  He had been a top student at the university and was now one of Jonathan's most powerful mages.  Alan's eyes narrowed at the thought of his brother.  They had never really gotten along very well, as they were constantly trying to be better than the other.  Of course, every time, it was Alianne who outshone them all, with her ability to turn a pun and her pretty face.  It was her charms and sharp mind that made both Alan and Thom want to strangle her constantly.  

            "Psst, Alan," Kel whispered, poking him in the side, "the queen just left.  All these men followed her."

            Alan rolled his eyes.  He knew what kinds of kinky things the Copper Islanders did, and he absolutely wanted to steer clear of that.  "Ok, tell Neal to follow her…I'll stay and watch Casimiro.  You go with him."

            Kel nodded and quietly slipped away.  In her absence, Alan was finally free to flirt with the brunette who'd been eyeing him the entire night.  She was a countess, he found out, and she was unmarried.  Even better, she had been trained as a mage at the university in Carthak.  She was a lady-in-waiting to the queen, and her name was Catalina.  

            "So, then, sir, what is your name?" she asked coyly, her bright blue eyes dancing.

            Alan froze.  He couldn't give the name he planned, he needed something foreign.  "Ailin de Louvaine," he replied quickly, giving the first name that came to his mind.  _Oh, shit, _he thought.  _Ailin is Irish, not French!_

            "Louvaine?"  The lady seemed impressed.  "But your name is not French, I do not think…"

            "Oh, no," he lied, "my mother was Irish.  But my father was French…I'm sorry, _is _French."

            "Ah, the British Isles," she purred.  "The land of King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and Tristan and Iseult!"

            His eyes widened.  "You are familiar with such literature?"

            "Well, of course.  Her Majesty insists that we be…she is very much enthralled with Britain.  In fact, the one lady she would like to meet is the Empress Matilda, King Stephen's cousin."

            _Just like Alianne._  "Really?  How odd…she would get along very well with my twin sister."

            Catalina smiled.  "Queen Eliana is one of a kind.  I will introduce you to her!  Come!"

            Alan blanched.  "Did I not just see Her Majesty leave?"

            "Oh, the queen had a personal meeting to attend with some of her nobles," the lady answered without hesitation.  "She will be in her private receiving room."

            Alan nodded as he let Catalina lead him towards the queen.  When they reached a golden door, she motioned for him to stop.  "Wait here," she ordered.  Alan obeyed, looking around as he passed the time.  The Copper Islanders had spared no expense making this palace.  The floors were marble, and the walls were inlaid with gold.  Various pieces of priceless artwork decorated the walls and tables.  He smiled wryly.  The palace in Tortall could never compare.

            "My lord?"  Catalina was at the door.  "Her Majesty is most happy to talk with you…she wishes to learn of your queen, Eleanor."

            Alan faked a smile as he bowed and entered the room.  Ladies-in-waiting dotted the walls, which were painted a silvery-white color.  The queen sat on a throne of pure silver, a veil covering her face.  As Alan gave a deep bow, she sat up straight.  

            "Leave us," she ordered, her voice slightly strained.  Alan frowned…her voice was slightly familiar.  _"Sálganos ahora!"_  When the ladies had all gone, the queen stepped down from the dais, and locked the door behind them.  She ripped off her veil.

            "What in the Goddess's name d'you think you're doing here, Alan?" his sister hissed.  Her violet eyes were narrowed dangerously.  "How did you know I was here?"

            Alan tried to find his voice.  "Well, actually, I just found out.  What the hell are you doing alive?  Everyone thought you were dead…"

            "Exactly what I wanted them to think," she interrupted as she stepped down.  "But that doesn't matter, does it, Alan?  I have what I've always wanted."

            "Bullshit it doesn't matter!  It absolutely does!  Gods, Ali, she still hasn't forgiven herself.  She's convinced that she killed you…and all the while you're running around the Copper Isles, playing the whore very well, seducing men old enough to be your _grandfather!_  And for what?  A crown…a crown that means nothing.  Oh, don't look at me like that.  Everyone knows how Cebrian died.  Sure, they think it's romantic, that you and Casimiro were willing to kill for your love.  But that doesn't make it right!"

            Alianne slapped him hard across the face.  "How dare you speak to me like that?" she said, her voice dangerously quiet.  "I am Queen of the Copper Isles.  You will not insult me so."

            Alan put a hand up to his cheek.  That hurt!  "Listen, Alianne, d'you honestly want to know what people really think of you?  They gossip about you incessantly at the Tortallan Court!"

            "What do I care if that group of trash has fun at my expense?  I am a queen, and they are not.  It is as simple as that."

            He rolled his eyes.  It appeared his sister's ego was growing ever larger…not that it was small to begin with.  "Oh, get over yourself.  No matter how many people bow down to you, or praise your name, you're still the same person as you were.  Queen Eliana of the Copper Isles…you know you're still Alianne of Pirate's Swoop, and that's who you'll always _be._  No better, no worse than the next person.  Don't glorify yourself."

            "Remove yourself from my presence at once," she snapped, "or I shall call the guards."  Reluctantly, Alan bowed and obeyed.  Once in the hall, he was immediately confronted by Kel, Neal, and several other agents.

            "Alan, we need to get out of here," Neal hissed as he handed him a piece of paper.  "Signed documents of war…the king and queen have ordered the Copper Isles' army and navy to attack Tortall at once."

            "They've allied themselves with the Bazhir," Kel added, her face grim.  "We need to get back to Jonathan as soon as possible."

            Alan looked over the documents his sister had signed.  The last one was the order to find and kill every last member of the Tortallan royal family.  "Oh, gods.  We're in for it."

            Neal looked puzzled.  "Why?"

            "They're planning to take the thrones…they're going to overthrow Jonathan and Thayet."

A/N: And the plot thickens…whatever shall the Tortallans do?  Yes, Ali comes off as evil, but she's really not!  She's just ambitious, like Anne Boleyn!  


	6. IMPORTANT NOTICE! PLEASE READ!

Hey guys! It's me, SailorPluto7! I know I promised like, three chapters or something before I went away, but I spent the entire vacation pretty much drunk and/or passed out. Yeah.not like you want to read anything from me with that state of mind. Anyhoo, school's starting next Tuesday, and I'm getting all ready for sophomore year. Nooooo! I'm scared.I'm taking five honors classes this year, which means I basically have no social life. I will, however, make time for writing. So, don't worry, chapters 6-10 of Alianne are coming soon, hopefully. I've been slaving away on Part Six while doing schoolwork, and it should be out sometime next week. Just wanted to let you know that I have not abandoned this fic.I love it too much.  
  
Which brings me to the next matter.if you want to flame me, don't do it on the site, please! Just email me.besides the fact that flaming is classless, cowardly, and downright mean.  
  
Luv y'all! SP7 


	7. La Princesa del Hada

Part Six-La Princesa del Hada

            One morning several weeks later, Alianne skipped Petitioner's Court.  Leaving Casimiro to handle affairs, she wiled away the morning in her chambers, a frown clouding her usually open and friendly face.  Lightly drumming her fingernails on the marble table next to the chair she daintily sat in, the young queen pondered the events of Midsummer.  What was Alan of all people doing in the Copper Isles?  Sighing, she turned a shot glass over and over in her hands.  _That bastard Jonathan is up to something, _she though maliciously.  _If I have to throw the heavens and the earth into chaos to get that throne, I will!_

            At the same time, Jonathan of Conté paced his rooms angrily, trying to grasp why the Copper Isles were suddenly so aggressive.  "Cebrian learned his lesson after the Immortals War," he shouted in a frustrated manner.  "And I was _looking forward_ to the day Casimiro inherited, not _dreading_ it!"

            "Jonathan," Thayet said softly, "stop working yourself up over it.  It's not like they're any real threat to us!"

            "That's just it, they _are._ They've been building an army, personally overseen by both Cebrian and Casimiro…an army to rival Carthak's.  Not to mention they have that queen of theirs…"

             Thayet drew the Sign on her chest.  Jonathan stopped for breath, then continued.  "They say she's a powerful sorceress, a witch, that she has been given inhuman powers by the Dark God himself.  It is rumored that she reads minds, and that one look into her eyes is enough to frighten someone to death.  Some of the Christians swear she has sold her soul to their devil, Satan.  I hate to admit it, Thayet, but she scares me.  She really does."

            "She scares everyone, Jon, there's no need to feel ashamed.  Our agents from the Copper Isles won't even talk about her, they're so frightened."

            A knock on the door stopped his next thought.  Gary poked his head in, a large smile on his face.  "'Lo, there, Jon.  Hey, Thayet!"

            "What d'you want, Gary?"

            His cousin's grin faded slightly.  "They've returned from the Copper Isles."

            Jon's eyes grew wide.  "Well?"

            "Jon, uhm, I hate to tell you this…but they found something.  A certain document there…"

            Thayet crossed the room swiftly to stand at her husband's side lest he faint.  "What did this document say, Gary?"

            "It's…it's an order to an army.  They have orders to march on Corus and…and…oh, Jon, it's bad.  It's really bad."

            "Yeah, well, I don't see how things could possibly get worse."  Jonathan plopped into a chair, putting his head in his hands.  "Alright, put out the Call to Muster, I guess."

            Gary bowed.  "Majesty."  As he walked back towards where he had left Alanna, he genuinely felt like crying for his cousin.  He knew Jon hated to be put in situations like this, risking the lives of thousands of men.  War was a sick thing, but as a knight, he had been forced to live through it, several times.  Alanna, looking equally dismayed, leaned against one of the garden statues, trying to at least smile.

            "How'd he take it?"

            "Not well."

            She sighed.  "It's hard for him…first Carthak, then Scanra, and now this.  It's all too much."

            "Things were so much simpler when we were younger."

            She laughed sadly.  "There are those who would say they would have remained simple had I not come along.  Perhaps there is some truth to that statement…"

            "How's Alan?" Gary asked, tactfully changing the subject.  "He seemed a little…off to me."

            "Gods, I don't know.  He was so quiet.  Normally he just talks and talks and talks…you can't shut him up.  Goddess knows I've tried.  But he barely said hello to me.  It was the strangest thing."  She frowned slightly.  "Last night, one of the priestesses at the temple of the Goddess had a strange dream."

            "Eh?  They have strange dreams all the time."

            "She is a prophetess, a seer, or so they say.  She is the one who foresaw the Immortals War the year after Jonathan's coronation."

            Gary was slightly puzzled; Alanna was rarely evasive.  In fact, she usually jumped straight to the point.

            "She had a dream about my daughter," she murmured.  "She saw her sitting on the throne of Tortall in a bloodstained purple robe, a crown of thorns upon her head.  A tiny dragon sat on her right shoulder; snakes were entwined around her arms and legs.  In her hand she held some sort of staff, with a seeing-stone atop it.  At her feet were the bodies of the kings of the Eastern and Southern Lands, including Jonathan.  In front of her the corpses of innocent people burned, and she laughed.  Laughed as tears of blood ran down her face."

            She looked at her feet.  "Gods, I wish..."  A single tear rolled down her cheek.

            "Alanna," Gary began, trying to think of something to say.  She mustered all the dignity she could manage and looked him straight in the eye.

            "I believe you have an army to call up.  You'd best do it now, before you get tired."  With that, she turned on her heel and walked straight towards the nearest door, leaving Gary with a frown on his face.

            "By the Goddess, Casimiro, it's the only way," his wife snapped, her violet eyes furious.  "If you're too much of a coward to see that, well, then, to hell with you!"  

            Casimiro winced as she slammed the door behind her.  Lately, it seemed that Alianne's temper was growing worse and worse.  Her demands grew greater every passing day; she strongly reminded him of their daughter, Elena, throwing a fit when something didn't go her way.  It was so bad that Casimiro was forgetting why exactly they were invading Tortall.  If not for a promise made by his forebears to avenge the wrongs committed against them by the stable nation, he would not have even considered the option.  It was insanity.  Jonathan had always been a strong supporter of his, and he was now stabbing his friend in the back.  The thought of all the innocent lives that would be lost made him sick to his stomach.

            Alianne's taunts about his cowardice and feminine behavior stung.  She used her charismatic personality to gain the support of the citizens rich and poor.  Her need for the Tortallan throne had nothing to do with the Copper Isles, but rather her own ambition.  The lovely young monarch had been dazzled by the power that came with a crown, and now she wanted even more.  Strong willed and vivacious as she was, even Casimiro didn't believe she could truly defeat Jonathan.  The Dominion Jewel loomed in his mind; sending his men to Tortall was like sending them to certain death.  

            But no.  Alianne had insisted on sailing for Tortall the next day, though without the entire army.  With her, she would take only a single regiment, which Casimiro found extremely odd.  Her goal was unknown as she refused to tell anyone save the commanders accompanying her.  They had their orders to keep silent, on the threat of death.  Casimiro sighed.  Things were getting more and more complicated.  Far too complicated for him...

A/N: Wow, that chapter was short.  Guys, I'm so sorry.  This year has been tough for me…I'm trying to boost my GPA.  For all y'all non-Americans (since you asked me this when you reviewed), sophomore year is the second year of high school.  Most sophomores are generally around 15-16 years of age.  Then you have junior year, and senior year.  Then, COLLEGE!  Or University.  Oh yes, you all, I did change my name.  I've lost interest in Sailor Moon, and gained interest in Tudor England.  Therefore, I decided to honor one of history's most mistreated queens, Anne Boleyn.  If you disagree with my opinion of her, don't flame me.  Just email, for Christ's sake.  I've already started writing Part Seven, and it's long.  Probably around twenty or so pages.  So, you guys'll have that to look forward to.  I'll try and get it out in the next week or so.


	8. A Growing Threat

Part Seven: A Growing Threat

            As she stepped onto the land, Alianne couldn't help but feel slightly sad.  _Welcome home, Ali_, she thought wryly.  

            "Not much of a homecoming, eh?"  Antonio, her general, was leaning over her shoulder slightly.  "I thought they would have welcomed you with open arms.

            "Hardly," she retorted.  "Especially not when I'm about to unseat their precious Jonathan.  Good riddance to the Conté line…"

            "Thinking positively, I see, my queen."  With that, he walked away, leaving her alone.  Alianne looked down the coast slightly, straining her eyes to see the outline of her home on the horizon.  Though she could see the lights of the castle in the distance, it was too dark to make out the actual structure.  She took a deep breath, the familiar salt air filling her lungs.  Knowing she stood on her parents' lands, poised to stage the largest assault on Tortall in its long history filled her with a kind of adrenaline.  Not a single drop of remorse flowed through her veins.  The roads to all thrones were always stained with treachery and blood.  This one would be no different.

            "Men, let's ride out!"  The Copper Islanders mounted their horses at this command.  Alianne, guiding her favorite horse, a pure white stallion, directed the destrier up to the general.  

            "Majesty, on your command."

            She nodded, savoring his words.  "Let's go…we have work to do."  Turning their horses south, the small army set out for their destination: the city of Persopolis.

            The bells of the palace tolled loud and clear to signal the arrival of dawn.  Blinking bleary eyes, Thom of Pirate's Swoop lifted his head and groaned slightly.  He'd fallen asleep over a very large and boring spell book.  The enormous thing was enough to put anyone to sleep.  He pushed dark red hair away from his face before rising and stretching slightly.  At nineteen, the precocious young black robed mage had caused a storm of controversy at court, many claiming he was turning out just like his famous uncle.  

            "I'm not going to raise anyone from the dead," he had snapped back at his mother when she teased him about it.  "I have enough problems with the living, thank you very much."  

            He was threatening to fall asleep again.  "Maybe this time in a bed," he scolded himself.  "That would be quite nice, wouldn't it?"

            A sharp knock brought woke him right up.  Stumbling out into the parlor, he opened the door.  Seeing who it was, he had to mentally tell himself to resist the temptation to hit his early-morning visitor.  "What do you want?"

            Nealan of Queenscove looked grim.  "The Copper Islanders have come ashore.  Myles's spies said they're riding southeast, across the desert."

            "Really…that's wonderful, Neal.  Why does this concern me?"

            He shifted on his feet.  "The king's sending a whole bunch of people to Persopolis, in case they try something.  A bunch of knights, foot soldiers, Roald, Numair, you."

            Thom rolled his eyes.  "Thank you, Hermes.  Now, would you kindly tell Zeus that I am unavailable at the moment given as Demeter has this severe problem involving Hades and her daughter Persephone?  First come, first serve, you know."

            "That's not funny.  Besides, I just happened to be there when the king announced this.  He told me to come and wake you up.  Everyone else is already dressed.  Hurry up, or you'll be late."

            "Again, I thank you.  Would you kindly tell Zeus that he can kiss his own ass?"  Thom started to shut the door, but Neal was too quick.  He pushed his way in the room.

            "Would you give it a rest with the messenger thing?  Gods, you're like a dog with a bone when it comes to that."

            "Wonderful use of simile there, Neal.  You're a regular Homer."  He grinned.  "Sorry, it's just too much fun baiting you."

            "Yeah, your mother used to say that."

            He raised an eyebrow.  "What, that you were fun to bait or that you and Homer have a lot in common?"

            "Both."

            Thom shook his head slightly.  "Fine, fine.  Give me twenty minutes, and I'll be there.  I promise," he added quickly, seeing the skeptical look on Neal's face.  "I swear.  Twenty minutes, that's it."

            Though he still did not look convinced, he left reluctantly.  Thom ran into his wardrobe, almost tearing off the long black robe he wore, pulling a different pair of shoes over his black hose, at the same time trying to yank a black tunic over his head.  Looking into the mirror, he grinned at himself.  "Not bad."

            After washing his face and cleaning his teeth, he took one last look at his reflection.  He looked perfectly normal.

            When he slammed out of his rooms into the hallway, Neal raised an eyebrow.  "I'm impressed...that was hardly ten minutes."  His green eyes twinkled.  "Who died?"

            "I'm in mourning for our generation," he shot back.  "Looking around this court and facing the future rulers of this nation depresses me.  Especially when I realize that one of the most powerful duchies will be controlled by you."  They began to walk towards Jonathan's main council chamber.

            Neal laughed.  "It's frightening, isn't it?  Though not as altogether scary as the thought of Roald as king."

            "_If_ he's ever king."

            His mother's former squire stopped dead, staring at him with wide eyes.  "You believe the rumors, then?"

            "Oh, come on, Neal."  Thom threw his hands in the air.  "Cebrian and Casimiro have put a great deal of their efforts into building an army to rival those of the Eastern Lands...combined.  They've signed a treaty with Kaddar, despite the Carthaki emperor's marriage to Kalasin last year.  There are many who say it won't be long now before more nations march under that sorceress's banner."  He made the Sign.  "Her name is enough to cause any sane man to tremble.  Eliana will stop at nothing to conquer Tortall.  And after she's through with us, she'll continue on to the rest.  D'you understand what this means?  Neal, I hate to say this...but this is a war we have no chance of winning.  It's hopeless."

            The knight looked dismayed.  Thom resisted the urge to roll his eyes at their nation's stupidity.  Neal, along with most other warriors, saw things from a soldier's point of view.  Never did they think that they might solve a problem in a way different from warfare.  Even Alanna thought that way...it drove her family crazy.  

            _This is insanity, _he told himself as they continued through the palace.  _Getting involved in a war we will most certainly lose.  Couldn't they just try and outsmart the Copper Islanders?  Oh, no, we have to beat it out of them on a battlefield...thank the gods there are at least a few people here with sense.  If Jonathan can't see what he's doing is absolute folly, then he deserves to be overthrown._

            Given a chance, most of the headmen called together for a joint council would have died with their king and Voice.  _Living_ with him, however, was quite a different thing.  The conservative members of the royal court were eventually gaining more and more influence over the king.  The Bazhir people found themselves with a considerably less amount of rights than they had had during the early years of Jonathan's reign.  Though the Bazhir were technically not allowed to war against the Voice of the Tribes, specially circumstances could be taken into consideration.  This time of need was one of those exceptions.

            Having decided to use this conflict to her advantage, Alianne stood before them, her face set.  Though they were wary of this ambitious young woman, they seemed to respect her.  At least they made no snide comments about her lack of a veil.  

            "Why do you stand for it?" she demanded, looking each one in the eye.  "He promises you peace and equality, then goes back on his word.  Now, you are forbidden places in the House of Commons.  You have no representation in his government, no voice to make your opinions known.  Have you not suffered enough at the northerner's hands?  Have they not shed enough of your blood?  Why sacrifice yourselves in a bloody civil war when you can join us?  Join us, and gain everything.  I promise you, under the rule of the Copper Isles, you shall not be overlooked."

            "How do we know that?"  One of the headmen stood, a scowl on his face.  "How do we know you're not just bribing us for use of our lands and soldiers?  Doing the same thing he's done?"

            Alianne blanched momentarily, then recovered.  "I do not lie, sir.  I do not make promises I know I shall not keep.  Ask my subjects in the Copper Isles if I have not worked wonders for their once-suffering nation.  I gave them political freedom, I gave them a king to love and believe in.  My intentions are pure and honest.  You will have what I promise you, I swear by the Goddess and the Black God.  Now, if you would please excuse me, I have a previous engagement.  My generals shall remain with you to work out the details and answer any of your questions."

            As she turned on her heel and walked out the door, she felt the weight of their stares on her back.  Shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, she turned to Antonio, flashing him a brilliant grin.  "Like stealing candy from a baby."

            "Have you ever tried to steal candy from a baby?  It's not as easy as they say it is...I had six younger brothers and sisters."

            "Unlucky you.  I was always the baby of the family, since I was the only girl.  Right after I was born, my older brother always tried to make me cry.  For some reason, he found it amusing."

            Antonio smiled.  "Were you their punching bag?"

            "Hardly," she replied.  "Eventually, if they tried to hit me, I'd hit them right back.  I was a fiesty little child."

            "You still are, Majesty."  He bowed and returned into the room, leaving her alone in the hallway.  

            Part of her wished that she could be free of her own ambition, her own thirst for power.  That small part of her now cried out, begging her to reconsider, to think of all the innocent lives that would be lost.  _You have to make sacrifices with matters such as this, _the other part of her said.  _Think of all the lives you will save in the elimination of warfare by conquering the Eastern Lands.  Everything will be yours...everything..._

            Still trying to shake her mind of the haunting feelings of guilt, Alianne walked up into the great hall of the castle.  She smiled wickedly as she passed Lord Martin of Meron, tied up and heavily guarded along with his family and other household members.  

            "Give it up," he called.  "Jonathan's soldiers will soon be here.  You won't hold this city for long."

            Alianne stopped, and turned slowly, walking towards Lord Martin, her face bland.  She stopped and looked down on him.  "Forgive me, my lord, when I say that Jonathan lacks the ability to do anything about this.  He can spare few soldiers, and he certainly wouldn't send the entire army just to rescue a replaceable lord, now would he?"

            Martin paled, knowing her words were true.  "You...you will never get away with this!  We have many allies!"

            "Correction, my lord.  You _had_ many allies.  Either we've bought them off or they've simply lost interest in your welfare.  The latter seems to be the case for most, as it took little persuasion and almost no monetary compensation to convince some of your neighbors to fight under our banner."

            Lord Martin fell silent, his face ashen.  Alianne turned to look at his oldest son Geoffrey, who glared back.  She laughed.  "You all would be much better off if you'd agree to cooperate."

            Observing this from behind the tapestries, Neal signaled to his men to be on guard.  In truth, he still needed to reflect on how easy it had been to sneak into the captured city.  Jonathan had warned them all to expect small armies of soldiers at the ready to attack.  Instead, a few gold coins had bought the cooperation of one of the Bazhir guards at the gate.  Next to him, Kel gave a little sigh.  After a year of idleness, she was finally being given a real assignment.

            At that moment, Kel's heart was pounding.  Here she was, about to beat the crap out of the woman who would see all of them destroyed.  Adrenaline pumped through her veins, even more so than when she had fought Blayce or Stenmun.  Because this time, she knew she would do it, and she was looking forward to doing it.

            Over one tapestry, Thom was trying to signal Neal, to tell him to stop what they were doing.  He tried to do so in vain, for if he wanted to succeed, he'd be found by not too friendly Copper Isles guards.  

            "One...two...THREE!"  Neal, Kel, and all the other soldiers at various points in the room jumped out from their hiding places, brandishing weapons of all kinds.  Lord Martin looked extremely relieved.  His captor did not.

            She turned white with fury, her eyes narrowing dangerously.  While she was surveying the room, one of the knights took the opportunity to attempt to grab her.

            "Stop!" Thom yelled over all the noise.  Everyone turned to look at him, everyone except for Neal.

            "Holy shit," he cried out.  "That's your sister!"

            Alianne glared at him before shouting something in Spanish.  Within seconds, a whole group of Copper Isles soldiers had arrived, looking to their queen for instructions.  Following them was a group of Bazhir.  Roald whistled.  "That's the assembly of headmen," he muttered.  "She really plays dirty, doesn't she?"

            She smiled triumphantly.  "This is the best Jonathan can do?  Then, please, bring on his best, I say.  This will take little more than a week to complete."

            The queen turned to her guards.  "Take them into custody.  I want all of them under lock and key in the dungeons.  Make sure they do not escape."

            Soon, the entire desert paid alleigance to the queen of the Copper Isles.  The Bazhir people were split.  Some remained in the north, others returned south to fight under the banner of their island neighbor.  Not only did Eliana hold powerful nobles and the children of powerful nobles in Persopolis, but she also had the crown prince in her dungeons.  Every day, more and more nobles advised Jonathan to concede to the powerful young woman.  Even some of his most loyal councillors were skeptic about his ability to hold onto the throne.  

            Jonathan knew what he had to do, yet he wanted to avoid this action at all costs.  He had always feared using the Dominion Jewel as a crutch, and it now seemed that was what he was about to do.  

            It was this he pondered late one night, sitting in his council room after the meeting had adjourned.  He was so engrossed in his thoughts, he didn't hear the door open and close lightly.

            "You know, I went up in that cave and battled that gods be damned ape for a reason," a familiar voice teased.  "I went through a hell of a lot of trouble to get that jewel for you, and I intend that you use it."

            "How did you know what I was thinking?"

            Alanna smiled.  "I always know what you're thinking, Jon.  Remember, I'm telepathic."

            "Sure, just keep telling yourself that."  He sighed deeply.  "But seriously, I don't know what to do.  Every action I take backfires on me.  I thought we could get rid of her quietly down in Persopolis.  So, I send a lot of useful people down there.  Then what happens?  They all end up locked in a dungeon.  Mithros knows what's going to happen to them.  Not to mention the Bazhir have turned against us.  You know, Alanna, maybe my reign really _is_ cursed."

            "Jonathan, I never want to hear you say that again," she snapped.  "After everything you and Thayet have done for Tortall, you suddenly start believing rumors that circulated over twenty years ago.  Just because we had that problem with Carthak and the immortals, then Scanra, and now the Copper Isles does not mean your reign is cursed.  We've overcome all those obstacles; we'll do it again, I promise.  That little queen of theirs is getting what's coming to her, don't worry."

            "Are you going to be the one to do the honors?"

            She laughed.  "I've already got my strategy planned out.  See, I'd love to just torture her for days on end...make her feel a little bit of pain.  Then, the real fun begins."  She frowned.  "But remember, when anyone else comes to you, I've got first dibs.  Got it?"

            "I promise, when we catch Eliana, you can be the one to kill her.  It's rather barbaric, but go ahead, have a field day.  After all, you deserve it."  He looked up to see her eyes fill with pain.

            "After what those bastards did to Alianne, absolutely."  She looked at him.  "By the way, what does this Eliana look like?"

            Jon frowned slightly.  "Rumored to be quite pretty.  Tall, thin, long blonde hair.  Her eyes are apparently amazing.  Why?"

            "She has a daugher named..."

            "Elena.  Alanna, why the sudden interest in her?"

            His champion shook her head slightly.  "It's nothing, really.  Jon, go to sleep.  It's past your bedtime."

            "Yes, Mother."

            "You know it," she shot back before leaving.  Jonathan sighed, settling himself in his chair.  Though his body begged for it, his mind was to restless for sleep.  Instead, he pondered the various outcomes of his decisions all night long, until the light of dawn touched his windows.  Only then did he rise and exit the council chamber, still deep in thought.

            Alanna didn't return to her bed that night.  Instead, she found herself wandering into a certain one of the rose gardens.  She looked up; it was a full moon.  _A night for lovers_, she thought wryly.  Her mind was brought back to a time many years before...her seventeenth birthday.  

            _Things were so simple then.  Even though I thought they couldn't get more complicated at the time, they did.  How I've changed since I sat here last...I was young then, naïve, trusting.  Why do I do this anymore?  What's the point, honestly?  Do I even know what I'm fighting for anymore, or do I do it simply because I feel I have to?  Is there something wrong that all I want is a good six months of blessed peace and quiet, without worrying about the Copper Isles, or Scanra?  Why can't I have my daugher back?_

            This last question brought her back to the present at a blindingly fast pace.  Though it had been almost three years since her daughter had disappeared, something inside wouldn't let her believe that she had been killed.  No, Alianne was still alive...and she wanted to know where.  

            Sitting cross-legged before the fire, Alianne stared into the flames.  Her eyes were wide and devoid of emotion as she took in the light.  The spell she was performing required patience, a virtue she had not yet acquired.  She was distracted by the shouts of pain and anguish coming from the dungeons below her.  _Goddess,_ she thought venemously, _haven't they learned if they just answer the damn questions outright, we won't have to go through this meticulous procedure?  Oh, fine, what the hell..._

            She walked lightly down a staircase leading into the hallway of cells.  About a quarter were empty.  Firmly setting her body, she began to walk past the prisoners, ignoring their curses and hate-filled insults.  These were commoners, nothing better than the filth of the Corus sewers.  She turned a corner to where the nobles were being held.  Here, there was no torture...not yet.  Should they prove cooperative, there would be no need for any.  

            "Well, well, well," a caustic voice called.  "Look who it is.  It's the..._queen_ of the Copper Isles.  The king's own whore!"

            Neal half-smiled at her.  He attempted a bow from where he was chained to the wall, but could not succeed.

            "Sit down," she snapped.  "You must really enjoy pain, Nealan.  For you will be experiencing a great deal of it very soon in the future if you don't shut your mouth."

            Though he was quiet, the young knight still viewed her with great dislike.  Turning away from him, she passed Roald.  He smiled weakly at her.  "Who would've thought?  Little Ali, the greatest threat this nation has ever seen.  You know most of my father's nobles are pressuring him to just step down and give the crown to you peacefully?"

            "See, that's idealistic, Roald, but then I wouldn't have any fun," she joked.  "I hate gaining things without a challenge.  It's like cheating." 

            He shrugged.  "I guess."  He closed his eyes, but only for a moment.  "Say, Alianne, you don't think you could arrange for some better food in here?  This steady diet of stale bread and water is starting to irk me."

            As she walked down the hall, she looked back over her shoulder.  "I'll see what I can do," she told him.  Her brother lounged in his own cell, looking merely bored.  She stopped in front of him, raising a single eyebrow.

            "Well?"

            He rolled his hazel eyes.  "Well what?  What do you want me to say to you, Ali?  What is there to say?"

            "How about, 'I'm sorry I got you in trouble by letting you dye your hair blue and therefore starting a chain of events that shall result in the overthrowing of the Conté family'?"

            Thom sat up.  "Oh, wait, so this is _my_ fault now?" he exclaimed indignantly.  "That's right, just blame it on me.  So, when several thousand people die, their blood is on _my_ hands?  Is that it?  I don't think so, Ali.  Your own ambition has caused all of this; your own sick, twisted mind which dictates the rest of you in such a way that would make a grown man cry.  What is _wrong_ with you?  What have they turned you into?"

            Alianne shifted her weight from one foot to another.  All of the other noble prisoners were listening intently.  She hesitated before venturing into the conversation again.  "No one has turned me into anything...everything I have done has been directed by myself and no other.  My subjects praise my name more than they praise most gods.  They worship me, they pay me homage.  I am their queen, their goddess.  I have been one of the greatest rulers in the history of my country.  What do you care if I take Jonathan's crown?  If anything, I should think you'd be happy.  Imagine what it will bring you, to have your sister on the throne."

            He raised an eyebrow.  "Unlike you, Alianne, some people do not plot, scheme, or kill for power.  They receive it honestly."

            "What does it matter, how I achieve power, so long as I get there?  I will rule an empire greater than Alexander's, than Caesar Augustus's.  My name will be glorified throughout history, and I will be worshiped by all." She smiled.  "If this is about jealousy, then..."

            "Ali," Thom began sadly, "the most unhappy person on earth could never even think about being jealous of you.  You have turned into something...cold, inhuman.  You have no heart, no compassion.  To you, everything is a game, a plot to gain more power.  News flash, sister dearest, it's not...there are so many more things to life.  Why have you turned your back on them?  On happiness?"

            "We have very different views on happiness, then."  Alianne sighed.  "Oh, Thom, _please_ don't be difficult.  I would ask Numair to do this, but he's too...oh, tempermental."   She paused before changing the subject.  "I need you to do something for me."

            "Do what?"  His voice was suspicious.

            "I want you to lend me some of your Gift...I need to do a really simple spell."

            "That's it?  Just a simple spell?"  She nodded.

            Thom looked highly skeptical.  "What exactly did you have in mind?  Because if you do something daft, then I'm going to get in trouble for it..."

            Being trapped in the Realms of the Dead was not a particularly comfortable situation.  Especially not when you had been...somewhat evil during your life.  Stuck alone in a freezing cold expanse of land devoid of any greenery was Roger of Conté's punishment for his past mishaps.  Two lifetimes of them, to be exact.  The Black God had not been pleased when the duke had cheated death, therefore his eternal damnation was increased somewhat.  It wasn't the cold, or the isolation that bothered Roger the most...it was the sheer boredom.

            Here he waited, for the day some young sorceror would raise him from the dead.  Of course, he didn't need to leech their Gift anymore; hardly, since his had been restored to full power after such a long dormant period.  Another thing that annoyed him was not being able to know what was going on in the world.  How many years had passed since his death?  What had happened to Jonathan?

            Well, as fate would often have it, he was about to find out.

            In the midst of pondering what the meaning of death was, he began to feel warm.  Feeling surged through his limbs, he closed his eyes against the sudden bright light shining in front of them.  Instead of a harsh wind roaring, he heard the pleasant sounds of a crackling fire.  Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes, blinking several times in succession.  Though his sight was still blurry, he could make out a figure sitting across from the bed he lay on.  As his vision sharpened, he could see that the person was female.

            "Roger of Conté.  It appears you cannot stay dead.  My mother shall be most distressed to hear of your return.  Again."

            She was mocking him!  This young girl was mocking him!  He sat up indignantly, a fierce scowl on his handsome face.  "Listen, I would have you know that I..."

            She stood up and crossed the room, rolling her eyes.  "Goddess, I know who you are and what you did.  You had guts, I'll admit, but not much sense.  You could've taken Jonathan's throne, had you thought out your strategy a bit more."  She smiled smugly.  "Though I look quite young, I am about to complete your task."

            "Oh, well," Roger snapped.  "Then why d'you need me, if you're so close to usurping Jonathan?  Did you think that they might fear you more?"

            "Stop, stop.  For the love of Mithros, settle down.  Let me explain...my name is Alianne, though the world knows me as Eliana.  I am the queen of the Copper Isles and commander of one of the largest armies ever to grace the earth with its presence.  I need you because you are a powerful sorceror, and the only mages as powerful as you would never help me."  She smiled.  "What else do you want to know?"

            Roger frowned slightly.  "How long has it been since I last died?"

            "Twenty-three, twenty-four years."

            He whistled.  "Long time, then.  What happened to Jonathan?  Obviously he's still on the throne."

            "Not for long."  Alianne shrugged.  "Married Princess Thayet shortly after his coronation.  They have five children...Prince Roald married Princess Shinkokami of the Yamani Islands and Princess Kalasin is now empress of Carthak.  I'm not sure about the other three...it's been several years since I've seen them.  I only know about Roald and Kally because I was at Roald's wedding, and Emperor Kaddar is one of my primary allies."

            Roger raised his eyebrows.  "But if Kaddar is one of your allies...oh, I guess that makes sense.  Whatever happened to my cousin's lovely champion?"

            At this, she smiled.  "Married, three children.  What else is there to say?  I haven't seen my parents for, oh, three years."

            At that, he really looked at her.  There it was...her eyes.  She had Alanna's eyes, though her hair was blonde.  "Interesting, as I take it you brought me back?  Isn't that slightly..."

            "Ironic?  Absolutely.  I find it unbelievably funny...anyway, I didn't do it all on my own.  Since your body was...destroyed at your last death, I didn't have the power to bring you back on my own, so I borrowed some of my older brother's Gift.  He's a mage...a powerful one."

            "Well," he began slowly, "I thank you for this, my dear.  Now, what is it exactly that you need me to do?"

            "Jonathan has that gods be damned Dominion Jewel, meaning he'll use it to turn nature against me.  D'you know how hard it's going to be to get to Corus with that thing in the way?  By then, he could have raised an army to rival mine, since thanks to my grandfather he certainly knows how many he needs."

            Roger nodded.  "I'll see what I can do."

            Intricate spells such as ones used to raise the dead often interrupted other workings of magic.  Sometimes, if they were powerful enough, they might even affect the ordinary world.  Early one morning, Alanna sat straight up in her bed, knowing that something was wrong.  Quickly she rose, moving silently so that she would not wake George, still sound asleep.  

            Once in the stables, she tried to remember where she'd felt this way before.  _Oh, Goddess, _she remembered.  _Port Caynn.  I felt that sense of evil and foreboding in the air when Thom...brought Roger back.  But his body was consumed in flame down in the tombs, so bringing him back would be impossible for all but the most powerful mages._  A thought occured to her.  _Who does that little sorceress have in Persopolis with her?_

            Alanna opted not to take a ride as she had planned, instead walking back inside the palace.  She ran back up to her rooms, shaking George awake.

            "What is wrong now?" he asked her, annoyed that she had woken him so early.  "Dawn's in what, two hours?  Couldn't you let me sleep?"

            "No, this is important!  Get up...something's wrong."

            He frowned.  "What do you mean, something's wrong?"

            "Do you remember that fall I stayed with you in Port Caynn?  On All Hallow's, you came back to Corus for some reason I can't remember.  Anyway, that's not the point.  That was the day Thom brought Roger back...you said yourself you felt the city shake.  Even in Caynn I felt it."

            "Alanna, what does this have to do with anything?  It's three in the morning...I really don't feel like reminscing about your brother...I didn't even like him."

            She rolled her eyes.  "Yes, I know you two didn't like each other.  Thom didn't like anyone.  The point I'm trying to make is I felt that again...though from farther away.  Someone's brought Roger back."

            "Eliana?"  He shook his head.  "With him on her side, she's halfway up the aisle in the Hall of Crowns.  Fine, fine, let me get dressed."

            She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.  She left, swiftly making her way towards where Raoul and Buri lived.  Raoul was luckily already awake.  She told him what she felt had happened, and what she wanted to do about it.  He agreed, going to wake Jonathan.  Alanna was left to relay the tale to Buri, who swore quietly.

            "Why can't that man just stay dead?  I don't understand why everyone wants to bring him back..."

            Alanna shrugged, looking out the window.  "I only hope we can stop them before it's too late."

            "You did _what?!?!"_

            Alianne winced.  Her brother could be quite frightening when he wanted to be, inheriting that particular trait from both his parents.  However, the look on Thom's face now was worse than any she'd ever seen on her mother or father.  He looked ready to kill her, were he given a chance.

            "Let me get this straight...you borrowed some of my Gift to bring _Roger_ back from the dead, after our mother has already killed him...twice!"

            She concealed her fear, drumming her long fingers gracefully on the marble table beside her adopted throne.  Roger lounged nearby in an armchair, an amused smile on his face as he regarded the oldest son of his enemy.  Thom paid him no attention whatsoever; his focus was completely on Alianne.  Antonio sat next to his queen, watching her brother carefully.

            "Good Lord, Thom, calm down," Alianne replied in a soothing voice, "it's not such a big deal.  Roger is merely here to help me, since you and Numair are proving most obdurate.  It's not like he intends to take the throne."

            The young mage threw up his hands, making a frustrated noise before he stormed out of the room.  Antonio followed, leaving Roger alone with Alianne, who sighed and slumped down in her seat.

            "There are times I wish I'd never been born," she mumbled.  "This is most definitely one of them."

            Roger inspected his fingernails.  "Oh, my dear, but if you hadn't been born, then I would still be stuck in hell.  I, for one, am most grateful for your existence."

            "Well, thank you.  It's nice to know someone cares."  She flicked her eyes in his direction.  "What actually happened with you and my mother?"

            "What, they haven't poisoned your mind against me already?"  He met her gaze, his crystalline blue stare causing her to shiver.  "Honestly, I'm not sure how I made the mistake of letting her know of my plans.  A simple error, I'm sure."

            She frowned slightly, trying to collect her thoughts.  All of the sudden, bringing Roger back didn't seem like such a wonderful idea...he might have ulterior motives.  In fact, he most definitely did.  _Oh well, it's a little late for that now._

            In Corus, the court tried to carry on the ridiculous notion that all was well, that the threat of the Copper Isles did not loom on the horizon.  Alan thought they were all fools, though that's not saying much, given as he thought pretty much everyone was somewhat mentally incompetent.  So, night after night of glittering parties, banquets, and balls, he joked and flirted as if he too was trying to force himself to believe that life was perfectly normal.  He pretended to ignore the fact that his brother was being held prisoner by a ruthless megalomaniac.  

            Alan's conscience was pricking, however, during these shallow fall weeks.  For, of course, he knew who Eliana truly was.  Everytime he heard someone curse her, he winced, knowing what would happen to his family if anyone ever discovered Alianne.  Because she was born a Tortallan, his twin would be found guilty of high treason should she lose the war.  There was no doubt she would be tortured day and night, and finally burned on Traitor's Hill.  It was this knowledge that dulled the sparkle in his eyes, the joking nonchalance in his voice.  Alan was...gone.  Replaced by a mere shadow of his former self.

            He drummed long fingers lightly on the stone as he leaned against a battlement, thinking hard.  His sister had done the unthinkable; brought Roger back from the dead...again.  His mother was beside herself, and she didn't even know about her daughter.  

            "Penny for your thoughts."

            _Oh shit._  He faked a smile.  "Just pondering the agreement of various colors, nothing else."

            "Liar."  Alanna sighed as she looked out over Corus.  "You're pitiful, you know that?  Gods, your father's awful at it..."

            "And you're such a professional, I suppose?"

            She laughed.  "That I am.  Listen, I need to ask you something.  And be perfectly honest with me, because I'll be able to tell if you're not.  What's wrong with you?  You haven't been yourself since you came home from the Copper Isles."

            Alan braced himself.  It was time to tell her...she was going to find out anyway.  "Mother...Alianne's alive."

            She looked merely surprised.  He paled slightly, trying to work up the courage to say what he had to.

            "Alianne...Alianne..."

            "What about her?" Alanna sounded terse.  "Well?"

            Alan bit his lip.  "Alianne is the queen, Mother.  Alianne is the one trying to kill Jonathan; the one who brought Roger back.  Alianne is Eliana."

A/N: Good place to end that, huh?  Now listen up, y'all.  I have busted my ass trying to get this story out by this week.  It's f-ing longer than usual...not to mention a shitload of stuff happens.  I would like to tell you that I have stayed up way late a good many nights writing this...I have blown off studying for like, three tests...

I'm in five honors classes.  I dance five times a week, I play the flute and the piccolo, I'm a mentor to middle school girls, and I teach CCD (Religious Ed in the Catholic faith).  I have given every INCH of spare time to writing this chapter over the past week.  I'm a tired wreck after cramming this into my schedule.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I LOVE writing.  I love writing this fic...it's an escape.  So, I'm going to try and write as much as possible...I'm not making any more promises about release dates, though.  I'm sorry guys, but there aren't enough hours in the day!!!


	9. War

Part Eight-War

(A/N: WARNING!  There is an _implied_ sexual encounter in here which might...upset some people.  Not so much the content, but the people involved.  Yeah, it's nasty, but hello...it's for the benefit of the story here, peeps...it's not detailed or anything.  As Jae knows quite well, I am _très__ horrible_ at lemons!)

            Footsteps echoed down the hallway of the palace dungeons.  The man, a Copper Isles spy, looked left and right at every cell.  At the end of the corridor, in the darkest, dankest one, he found what he was looking for.

            Over the years, her infamous beauty had faded slightly.  Her chesnut-brown hair was matted and streaked with gray.  There were dark circles under her dull green eyes, and her face was pinched with lack of nourishment.  Her skin was pale and dry, her movements no longer graceful.  Though she had aged, she still possessed a certain dignity.

            He bowed slightly.  "M'lady, I am to take you to a different location today."  He kept his voice light and genial in case he was overheard by any guards or prisoners.  Clumsily unlocking the door, he bowed as she swept out of the cell.

            "Thank you, sir."

            A week later, two riders arrived at the gates of the city of Persopolis.  They were admitted by skeptical guards, who saw it fit to accompany them to Roger's suite.  The sorceror smiled when his visitors entered.

            "_Gracias,_ Ricardo," he said quietly.  "You all may go now."  The three men exited, leaving Roger alone with the woman.

            "My dear, you have changed somewhat."

            Delia of Eldorne gave an unladylike snort.  "Imprisonment does that to you, Roger.  As does old age."

            He laughed slightly.  "You're not so old, my dear, you've just been under terrible circumstances for the past two decades."

            "What do you want from me, Roger?  Or, even better, what does that little whore want from me?"

            A door slammed open, revealing a furious Alianne.  "What the hell is _she_ doing here?"  The young queen looked at Roger.  "Why did you bring her here?"

            "I thought she might be...useful.  After all, Delia has always..."

            Alianne narrowed her violet eyes dangerously.  "Fine.  Fine, bring _her_ into this.  The next thing I know, you'll have brought Alexander of Tirragen and Josiane back from the dead!"  She spun around to face Delia.  "Listen to me.  I swear by all the gods in heaven, if you even think of taking this situation and turning it around so that you benefit instead of me, I will hang you from the walls of this castle _by your own entrails_.  That goes for both of you."

            Long after the meeting was over, Alanna paced the council room, trying to make sense of it all.  Jonathan had sent out the Call to Muster...they were going to war.  In a week, they would ride for Persopolis...the entire army, and she would be going with them.  

            She had sat through the council session with a set face, not betraying any emotion whatsoever.  Jon was highly reluctant to enter into a war he knew he would lose, yet he wanted to keep his pride intact.  Some of his more conservative nobles were perturbed that the king would even consider an insignificant female as a threat to the nation.

            And now, Alanna finally sat down at the long table, drumming her fingers on its top nervously.  The conservatives already hated her for many things, and now another reason had surfaced.  Tortallans were dying on the coast by the hundreds, pummeled by the Copper Isles navy.  If they knew that Alianne was behind it...

            Thom was bored.  He sat in a dank prison cell day after day, with really nothing to do other than count the grains of dirt on the floor.  So far, he had counted several thousand.  He kept up a steady stream of conversation with Roald, Neal, and Kel, unless of course they were asleep, which all of them happened to be at the moment.  So, he began to think of the ways he could kill his little sister.

            As he was doing this, a cloaked figure appeared at the door.  He was imagining her being burned slowly on a bed of hot coals when he heard a familiar voice.  "Looks boring in there."

            He rolled his eyes.  "You couldn't imagine.  Now, why don't you be nice and let me out of this hellhole?"

            Alan grinned.  "Ali wouldn't like that...she'd probably throw a fit, and then we'd all be in for it.  Besides, it's rather funny seeing you locked up like a common criminal."

            "If I weren't in chains, I would so hit you right now.  Gods, Alan, just do what I said."

            "Fine, fine.  Don't be such a brat.  You know, you should be thrilled I'm here to get you out of this mess."  He unlocked the door and moved on to the chains.  "Could you do me a favor and wake everyone else up?  Silently?"

            Muttering about insolent fools, Thom stood gingerly, rubbing his wrists where the shackles had chafed.  Neal leaned against the wall of the corridor, scowling.  He looked up and wrinkled his nose.  "Doesn't your brother know to wait until we're all awake?  I was having a wonderful dream."

            "How did he get in?" Keladry of Mindelan wanted to know.  "I thought this place was guarded better than an Egyptian tomb."

            "It is," Neal quipped.  "But Goddess knows Alan charmed some maid into sneaking him in one of the side doors."  He dodged Alan's elbow, which still came ramming into his stomach.

            "Shut it, Neal, before I shove this sword up..."

            "That's enough," Roald interrupted diplomatically.  "Can't we all just get along?"  He turned to Alan.  "Where's everyone else?"

            "Already out.  Even the ones we had to carry..."  He winced.  "What did she do to them?" 

            "You don't want to know," Neal replied dryly.  His face was grim.  "I tell you, that sister of yours is quite frightening when she's angry."

            "Which is most of the time, now that Roger's brought Lady Delia into all of this," Kel remarked thoughtfully.  "Interestingly enough, she seems to believe he's actually in this to help her."

            Thom grimaced.  "Which is definitely not the case.  Have you ever met a slimier bastard?  He questioned me for hours on end about my Gift.  The man deserves to be skinned."

            Alan held up his hand.  "Everyone shut up and follow me."  He did, in fact, lead them through the castle laundry.  Several of the maids started giggling and waving shyly.  Neal nudged Thom in his side, shooting him an "I told you so" look.  Alan shot one of the girls his trademark grin, and she opened what appeared to be a wall panel, but was in fact a door.  He bowed right before exiting, causing some of the girls to sigh.  Thom pushed his brother along.  "Keep going, you flirt."

            Before long, they were out in the open desert, which Thom found quite a change.  The hot, dry air was refreshing after weeks in the damp, cold dungeons.  Kel smiled.  "What next?"

            "The army is camped all over the desert," Alan explained, "but those in command are staying with the one tribe still loyal to Jonathan."  He gestured to a handful of horses.  "That's where we go now."

            One of the guards for the Bloody Hawk shouted the alarm that five horses were racing across the desert in their direction.  Other sentries from the Tortallan army cleared them, saying they were not enemies.  One of them, golden-haired and green-eyed, was the perfect picture of health.  The other four looked worse for wear.  Thin and sick after weeks indoors, they were deathly pale.  Just the ride from Persopolis had nearly killed them.  Duke Baird saw that they were put immediately to bed.

            Alan, however, reported directly to Jonathan.  When the king asked him if he had seen anything unusual, he glanced quickly at his mother.  She shook her head so slightly that only he could tell.  "No, Majesty," he lied.  "Nothing at all."

            Jonathan sighed.  "I'm positive Eliana knows we're here.  I've had word from those on the coast that ship upon ship of Copper Isles soldiers are arriving.  Casimiro and his elite group of knights have also reached our shores.  They all ride quickly for Persopolis, which is why we must strike quickly and take the city back before he arrives."  He smiled at Alan.  "You may go, if you like."

            Alan bowed and exited the tent, trying to keep his nerve.  Lying to Jonathan was not the most fulfilling thing in the world.  In fact, he felt absolutely awful for doing it.

            "It's hard to do, isn't it?"  He hadn't noticed Lord Wylon's approach.  "Keep things from him, I mean.  It is your duty to be honest, but on the other hand..."  The man smiled.  "This whole time you've risked your neck for us, without wanting anything in return.  You've done what either one of your parents would have done, and I can give you no higher compliment than that."

            Alan was puzzled.  This, coming from the same Lord Wyldon who absolutely despised his mother?  The same Wyldon whom had made things difficult for her for so many years?  Wyldon of Cavall, the great conventionalist, was complimenting _him_, Alan of Pirate's Swoop, son of the two most _unconventional_ people in Tortall?

            But of course, his reply was quick, smooth, and ever charming.  "I thank you greatly, my lord, but I have done nothing worth such praise.

            "So young, so talented, and yet so modest.  I find that interesting.  Well, good evening, then."

            Alan bowed in reply.  When Wyldon was out of sight, he raced to find his horse.  After all, he was well overdue for a talk with his cold-hearted, ruthless sister.

            Lady Alianne would never have tried to kill her own brother.  Lady Alianne would never have gone so far as to actually raise a sword against her twin.  But Lady Alianne of Pirate's Swoop was gone, replaced by the cold, beautiful, and evil Queen Eliana of the Copper Isles.  Eliana wanted nothing more than to be the queen of Tortall, and by the Goddess, she would settle for no less.

            And still, when Alan wrenched the weapon out of her hands, she felt suddenly fatigued.  Her whole quest was old, tired.  Perhaps she didn't want Tortall...

            Part of her yearned for the peaceful idyll of Casimiro's villa in the Copper Isles, during the days of Cebrian's reign.  Her other half wanted her life before all this back.  Her life as merely Alianne of Pirate's Swoop.

            _Damn that hair dye_, she thought venemously.  _Had I not been so unbelievably stupid, none of this would have happened._

            She dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face.  "What is wrong with me?" she cried hoarsely.  "What have I done to myself?"

            Alan, though still wary of her, moved slightly closer.  He peered curiously down on the sister he hardly knew.

            "No," she whispered in a voice that made his blood run cold, "no.  I will not succumb to weakness."  She stood, her eyes determined.  "Isn't it funny?  My mother was a liar and a cheat, my father was King of Thieves...and yet, I am the greatest queen this world has ever seen.  Millions worship the ground I walk on, for I am their _goddess_.  They glorify my name."  She looked at him sadly.  "Go back to the Tortallans, Alan.  Tell them who I am.  Tell them what I was, and what I have become.  Let Jonathan know that his time has come to an end.  The sun sets on his reign, it is rising on mine.  Go, have some of the guards escort you."

            He bowed and left, leaving her alone with her thoughts.  Cold deliberation ran through her veins, erasing any trace left of reluctance.  

            "Majesty!"  The guard sounded urgent.  "Majesty, the king is here!  He has arrived with the remainder of the army!"

            Alianne smiled, though it was devoid of any warmth or kindness.  _No more waiting,_ she thought.  _It is time for me to claim my throne._

            Jonathan paced the tent, trying not to look too worried.  Casimiro had arrived with the rest of the Copper Isles army.  The Tortallans didn't stand a chance, not with the Bazhir against them.  Though he was close to just surrendering, he couldn't, not with all that had happened.

            One of the guards entered, bowing.  "Majesty, there's someone here to see you."  Jonathan nodded distractedly.

            "Majesty, I have just come from Persopolis.  Casimiro has indeed arrived, and he has planned to march soon."

            Jonathan sighed deeply.  "I'll have to summon the lords," he said tiredly.  "And call the army together...it's finally begun then."

            Alianne sat before the fire, still dressed in her blue and white gown, her golden hair cascading down her back.  She was deep in thought, so deep in fact that she didn't hear Roger enter.

            "Your husband is charming, my dear," he began pleasantly.  "Though slightly weak.  I would beware his tendency towards cowardice.  It could get either of you killed one day."

            She glanced at him, raising one eyebrow.  "It's indecent for you to be in here so late.  You know those servants...gossip will all over the castle by tomorrow, and running rampant in the whole of the Eastern Lands by early next week.  My lord, if you please..."

            "Oh, quiet, you insolent girl.  Didn't your mother ever teach you to hold your tongue?"  He smiled.  "No, I suppose not.  Anyway, I'll leave when I want to."

            She paled.  What was he thinking?  Did this constitute as rape?  "Your Grace, I swear, if you do not leave right this instant, I will..."

            "You'll what?" he interrupted, suddenly close enough to make her uncomfortable.  "Don't deny it, you do find me attractive, do you not?"

            "Well, of course," Alianne snapped, pulling away from him.  "What woman wouldn't?  But by the Goddess, d'you know how old I am?"

            "Seventeen...such a young age."

            "Eighteen.  Last week."

            Roger grinned.  "Happy belated birthday.  Well, now that you're an adult, don't you think it's time you made adult decisions?"

            "Such as having you in my bed tonight?  Gods, I think not..."  Alianne was disgusted.  "For you to even _suggest _such a thing is preposterous."

            He pulled her close to him.  She could smell his expensive cologne, a pleasant, masculine scent.  "I want you," he whispered.  "I want you more than anything."

            _This is absolutely the most disturbing thing that has ever happened to me, _she said to herself.  _What am I supposed to do?  Do I lead him on, and then get rid of him?  No, then he'd get carried away._  But she couldn't think, for suddenly, his mouth was on hers.

            Surprisingly, she kissed him back, not knowing why.  When he began to remove her gown, she didn't stop him.  In fact, she made it easier for him.

            _To hell with reason.__  Impulse of emotion is what makes the world go round._

            Only a week later, Alianne knew she was pregnant again.  _Damn that son of a bitch_, she thought, but there was no way Casimiro would ever realize it wasn't his child.  But of course, she had other matters to deal with.  Slightly more pressing matters.

            Her spies had informed her that Jonathan was mobilizing his troops.  He had called together the lords, and his commanders were on the highest alert.  "Jonathan plans to mass in the south," Antonio said at a war council, using chess pieces on a map to demonstrate.  "They will all attack us at once.  A poor plan, if you ask me."

            "But our army has not entirely arrived," Alianne pointed out, slightly worried.  "Using the Dominion Jewel, Jonathan might be able to defeat us."

            Delia chuckled.  "Oh, you mean _this_ Dominion Jewel?"  She put the stone on the table.  "Several of your agents broke into the Bloody Hawk last night and stole it.  Without this, Jonathan hardly stands a chance."

            Alianne's eyes narrowed.  "You did this without consulting me first?" she hissed.  "I warned you, Delia, not to get in the way..."

            "I ordered it," Casimiro interrupted.  "Not that it matters, anyway.  The remainder of our troops, the Bazhir soldiers, and the Carthaki mercenaries have indeed come together.  When Jonathan is occupied with attacking us, they will come in from behind and crush him then.  It is as simple as that."

            She frowned.  "King Jonathan is not a stupid man.  He must have thought you would do that."

            "Oh, most likely," Antonio replied viciously.  "But he is intent upon relying on the Dominion Jewel...which we have.  They replaced it with a fake, so that he would not know."

            Alianne rolled her eyes.  "Don't you all think?  He's going to know it's not the real one.  The Dominion Jewel possesses certain...magical properties."

            "Raising Roger had its advantages," her husband said with a smile.  "He was able to bewitch the false stone so that its properties were almost the same as the original.  Only, instead of making the environment turn on us, the false Jewel will signal our generals on the outside ranks to attack.  The Tortallans hardly stand a chance."

            "Jonathan is sure to fall," Delia began.  "He cannot possibly win, not with all the gods in heaven on his side."

            Though he was nervous, Jonathan didn't show it.  He donned his mail and armor without expressing any form of emotion whatsoever.  But his subjects knew that he was worried sick.  He sat unusually rigid on his horse, ready to lead his army into what would doubtlessly be his final battle...or so he thought.  The power of the Copper Isles was far too great for Tortall.

            As they approached the walls of Persopolis, he held up his hand, signaling the army to stop.  He turned around to look at his last chance...then he surveyed the forces that held the city.  _We might actually have a chance, _he thought happily.  _It looks like Casimiro and Eliana were overconfident and didn't bring the entire army with them...silly mistake._

            Over in the city, Alianne grinned.  "That's the best he can do?  Black God, this should take no more than twenty minutes.  We might not even need the others."

            "Nonsense," Casimiro replied.  "Jonathan has managed to win despite unimagineable odds before...did you ever hear about the Tusaine War?"

            "Of course.  Thousands and thousands of times...my mother was his squire at the time."

            He smiled gravely.  "Yet another pebble in my shoe.  _She_ is the one you have to be afraid of.  Quite a remarkable woman."

            "You've never met her!"

            "Oh, yes I have.  It was several years ago, at some court function in Corus.  You see, my dear, when I was your age, I loved to travel.  Tortall was merely one of my destinations.  I believe you were in the City of the Gods at the time...yes, you were, because she mentioned you."

            Alianne rolled her eyes.  "Why were you talking about me?"

            "I can't remember how we actually got on the subject, but she did mention that all you wanted was to be normal.  Hard to do, considering who your parents are.  I met your father as well.  Wonderfully funny, though I wouldn't want to get on his bad side."

            Antonio walked up, laughing.  "Lord, I cannot believe this.  Jonathan really has no idea what he's getting into, does he?"

            "No," Alianne snapped, "and I believe that's the point.  Now, if you two will kindly excuse me?"

            When Antonio shot him a questioning look, Casimiro shrugged.  He had learned to ignore his wife's unusually quick temper and extreme mood swings long before.  But before stopping to contemplate this latest burst of ill humor, he had to turn his attention back towards the army.  Jonathan had arrived at the city walls.

            Arrows rained down on the Tortallan army.  Horses reared and almost tossed their riders; foot soldiers bravely set great ladders on the city walls.  In the midst of all the chaos, Alanna fought her way to one of the city gates that the King's Own had managed to actually open.  Into Persopolis a legion of knights and foot soldiers rushed.  They were quite perplexed to find the city streets devoid of any Bazhir or Copper Islanders.  

            Raoul rode up next to her.  "What d'you say we ride up to the walls and take them from behind?"

            She nodded in agreement and steered her horse towards the edge of the city, trying to find the best point for sudden attack.  However, it was too late.  The gates slammed shut behind them, a whole troop of Copper Islanders advancing menacingly.  With a ferocious battle cry, they pounced.

            A swarthy man on a Spanish mare rode up next to Alanna, his sword high in the air.  She swung her weapon down lightning fast and slashed at his abdomen.  Though he was bleeding profusely, he did not founder.  Instead, he brought his sword up and cut a long gash in her right arm.  Seething with anger, she ran her blade straight through his heart.  Only seconds later, another man was at her back.

            She cut them down, sometimes two at a time.  But still the men kept coming on and on, like there was no end to their number.  She heard Raoul give a painful yelp, and she looked up suddenly.  Her longtime friend was on the ground, a Copper Islander's glaive poised at his throat.  Thanking the gods for George, Alanna pulled a dagger out of one of her boots and threw it at the man about to kill Raoul.  He fell, not expecting the assault.  

            Her large friend grinned in reply.  "Always having to play the hero, you are.  Gods curse me if I'm sorry for it."

            They had defeated the enemy, but their number had been cut in half.  Tying a rough bandage around her bleeding arm, Alanna looked for an escape, finding nothing.

            "What can we do?"

            Raoul grimaced.  "We're like sheep in a wolves' den...we have nowhere to go.  I'd suggest we try and find another gate, quickly.  They'll be back to finish us off in no time."

            Alianne fingered the Dominion Jewel longingly.  In her hands, she held the very key to worldwide domination.  Everything could be hers...yet at a terrible price.  She risked the gods' anger if she took it from Jonathan and actually used it against him.  She looked out over the battle and grinned.  Things were going exactly as she planned.

            "Majesty, they're winning.  Call the army now," Antonio requested.  

            "That's what I want them to think, Tony," she replied in a wicked tone.  "They will be so exhausted that by the time the rest of the army arrives, they won't have the strength to fight them.  We've already won."

            "Not yet you haven't," a female voice hissed.  Alianne felt a sharp point at the nape of her neck.  "Hand over the Jewel, or I'll slit your throat."

            Her blood ran cold.  _Delia._  How could Roger have been so stupid?  Unless... "No," she whispered.  "Gods, no..."

            "What," the duke sneered, "don't tell me you actually thought I would let you take all the glory from this?  _You?_  I mean, you're...and I'm...socially, you are beneath me."

            Alianne paled.  "_Jesu__ Christi_.  You are an unimaginable bastard, Roger of Conté.  I can't believe you..."  She spun around to face him.  The handsome duke was smiling quite evilly.

            "You know, Alianne, the resemblance between you and your uncle is uncanny.  He also was young and naïve, believing that he was God Almighty.  Oh yes, he thought that he was more powerful than I, but obviously he was wrong.  Though, I must say, his vanity pales in comparison to your ungodly amount."

            Her eyes narrowed dangerously.  "Now," Roger continued.  "Hand over the Jewel, and I might kill you quickly."

            "_Never_," she hissed.  "You are crazed, and I must have been drunk when I brought you back.  Guards!"

            "They aren't coming."  Delia smiled.  "We made sure of that."

            Antonio, hidden in the corners, unsheathed his sword.  "You both, step away from the queen..."

            "Or you'll what, skewer us?  Oh, I'm so afraid."

            Alianne saw her opportunity when Delia turned.  In a smooth action, she had both the lady and Roger on the floor.  Two daggers were instantly in her hands.  "Don't try anything," she warned.  "There are certain advantages to having the father that I do.  Antonio, call the soldiers."  She knelt in front of them.  "I warned you, many days ago, Delia, that I would hang you from the walls by your own entrails.  Get ready to face that fate."

            That night, during a pause in the fighting, Lady Delia and Duke Roger were publicly executed.  They were hanged, cut down while still breathing, and had their intestines drawn out.  Instead of beheading them then, as custom decreed, they were hung from the walls by their entrails.  Jonathan watched the gruesome sight from afar, his stomach threatening to heave.  Several of his men indulged their feelings and promptly lost their dinners right in front of him.  Thayet was so distressed that she fainted.

            Meanwhile, back in the city, Alianne dined alone with Casimiro.  She held up her glass of wine.  "To justice."

            "To justice," he echoed, "and to the death of treachery."  They drank, and a silence followed.  She broke it.

            "Darling," she began sweetly, and he looked up suspiciously.  "No, no, it's nothing bad.  Actually, it's rather good news."

            "Yes?"

            She looked down, not able to quite meet his eyes.  "I am with child."

            Casimiro nodded.  "Well, then, pray God it is a son this time, eh?  While our sweet Elena is a clever girl, I could never leave my kingdom to her."

            "_Our_ kingdom," Alianne corrected sharply, "and I never knew you had qualms about the inheritance of women."

            He smiled.  "Of course not, my lovely flower."

            "If you ever call me 'lovely flower' again, I swear I shall kill you."

            Casimiro laughed and lifted his glass.  "I shall respect your wishes, my lady.  To our son."

            The look in her eyes was one of intense malevolence, yet Alianne did drink to his toast.  She sent a silent prayer to the gods that the child was indeed Casimiro's, and not Roger's, for that would be an unimaginable disaster.

A/N: About my decision to end this chapter at an unbelievably anticlimactic moment...a lot of shit has been going on in my life right now.  My suicidal tendencies are starting to surface yet again, and I'm developing a case of bulimia.  Then, not long ago, I was suspended from school for forging my mom's signature on a paper.  My parents are ready to absolutely kill me...I'm not allowed to go to my best friend's Sweet Sixteen party!!!  I'm so totally grounded right now, and it absolutey SUCKS.  All for a stupid paper.  I'd rather have just taken the zero, ya know?  Ah, I've already posted about this on Sheroes...you can read my bratty rants and raves there. 

Yeah, so, happy reading!


	10. Out With the Old, In With the New 1

Part Nine-Out with the Old, In with the New (1)

            Alanna was starting to worry.  Inside the city, the remainder of the Copper Isles soldiers fought fiercely.  At the Tortallans' back was the remainder of the great army.  Inside Persopolis, doubt was starting to creep into the recesses of her mind.  It looked as if her daughter might actually win this battle.

            Alianne.  She still couldn't believe that her only daughter, her Alianne, was behind all the pain and death before her now.  Never before in her entire life had Alanna seen so much blood in one place.  Not even the Immortals War could compare to the absolute devastation enfolding in front of her eyes.

            As she sat, bored out of her mind, ordered not to move by the generals, she began to doze.  While she was lightly sleeping, she began to dream.

            _She sat with George on the balcony of House Azik.  She was young again, and still stinging from the loss of Jonathan._

_                "My parents are dead, my brother is a psychopath, and I passed up the opportunity to become queen of Tortall," she said unhappily.  "What's the strongest liquor you have?"_

_                George laughed.  "I still can't believe you actually did that."_

_                "Oh, come on.  Can you honestly see me as the queen?  The last thing I want is to be chained for the rest of my life like that."_

_                He frowned.  "Then what do you want?"_

_                She looked up at the stars and sighed.  "I want to go places and see things.  I want to be able to say when I die that I lived my life to its fullest.  And I want love...a powerful, earth-shattering, mind-blowing love that just sweeps me off my feet.  I want to feel alive!"_

_                Suddenly, the wind blew cold.  Alanna frowned; that wasn't part of what she remembered.  It was warm in Port Caynn that evening!  _

_                "You got what you wanted, didn't you?" a cold, female voice sneered.  "But you loved him more than you ever loved us."_

_                "No!  No, no, that's not true!"_

_                Alianne scowled.  "You're so selfish...all you think about is yourself!  You were never there for me...I never knew what it was like to have a mother!"_

_                Her daughter turned into Jonathan.  "At least they're _women_, Lady Alanna," he taunted.  "At least they know how to act like women!"_

_                Jonathan became Liam.  "Sometimes you act like you have no more sense than the kitten I named you!"_

            Alanna sat up straight, sweating.  Raoul looked at her with a worried expression.  "Is something wrong?" he mouthed silently.

            She shook her head in reply, and turned her attention back on the castle to keep herself awake.  They had to find a way in, with or without Vagnet's orders.  Every second they let go to waste was reducing their chances of defeating the Copper Islanders.

            Inside the castle, a weary Alianne stretched out on her bed and tried to fall asleep.  After a long day of directing the army, she was absolutely exhausted.  It was hard, letting the Tortallans think they were winning.  She rolled over on her stomach and sighed deeply, thinking of her daughter.  _Elena_, she thought sadly.  _My little princess, I hated my mother for never being there and now I find myself doing the same to you.  I promise, when this war is over, we will never be apart again._

            It was an empty promise, one not easily kept, but it satisfied Alianne at the moment.  So lost was she in her thoughts that she did not hear the door softly open and then close.  But she did hear the footsteps.  "Casimiro?"

            Her answer was the sharp point of a dagger at her throat.  "Your husband is gone, Majesty.  You have been defeated."

            Alianne did the first thing that came to mind; she screamed.  And kept screaming, louder and louder, but still no guards came.  Her attacker laughed and spun her around to face him.  It was Jonathan.  She began swiping her nails at his face, thinking only of scratching his eyes out.

            The last thing she felt was the contact of a heavy object with the back of her head, and then darkness...

            "Gods be damned, girl, if you don't answer me right now, I swear..."

            "And I swear I don't know," Alianne gasped.  She bit her cheek to keep from crying out as the scourge made contact with her exposed back again.  "How many times do I have to say it?"

            Vagnet haMinch turned and looked at Gareth (Gary) of Naxen with a frustrated cry.  "Damn it, yes you do, you little liar!"

            Alianne rolled her eyes.  "How long are you going to torture me?  It seems pointless if you're just going to get the same answer.  Would you rather I lie and say I do know where they are?"

            Gary, who previously had refused to look at her, met her eyes and shook his head in disbelief.  "Just confess, please.  Beheading is better than death by torture."

            "As if she deserves it, little harlot," Vagnet snapped viciously.  "If Jonathan had handed you over to me as I requested, you'd have been begging for death a week ago!  Perhaps I may still convince him..."

            She arched an eyebrow as two guards untied her hands.  Her back was a crisscross of scars and bloody gashes.  "Would you rather me say under oath?  I swear to the Goddess, I do not know where my husband is."

            The general backhanded her, knocking her to the ground.  Gary winced and looked away, his face deathly pale.  haMinch, on the other hand, grabbed one of her wrists and wrenched her off the ground.  "Gods as my witnesses, if I find that you are lying to me, I will make you sorry you were ever born."

            Gary pulled Alianne from his grasp.  "Mithros, Vagnet, she's just a child!  Stop this insanity now...it's just not right."

            Vagnet looked back at the prime minister with intense hatred and swept out of the room, beckoning the torturers to follow.  Gary was left with Alianne, who finally allowed herself to cry, sinking to the ground in a torrent of tears.  She grabbed his hand, choked back a sob, and looked up at him, her eyes huge in her too-pale face.  "Please, gods, my lord," the young queen pleaded desperately, "just let me see my mother once.  That's all I ask before I die."

            He pulled himself out of her grasp and backed away, trying not to see the bloody mess before him.  Not knowing what else to do, Gary fled.

            "Alianne?"

            She thought she was dreaming when she heard the whisper, but with the cautious opening of the door, she knew it was real.  Alanna shut the door gently behind her and locked it.  She flicked violet fire to all the corners of the cell, including the windows, to deter eavesdroppers.  Alianne sat up and ran her fingers through her hair nervously.

            Her mother knelt before her and looked her deep in her eyes.  "Gods, Ali, why?  Why did you do it?"

            Alianne winced and looked away.  "How did you get in here?"

            "I drugged the guards and stole the keys.  It was actually rather easy.  But I want to know why."

            "Why do you care?"

            "Because I'm your mother and I love you," Alanna replied.  "I can't bear to see them hurt you like this.  Where is he, Alianne?  Just tell them...please, Goddess, just tell them."

            "Oh, I see.  If I tell them, they might decide to behead me instead of burning me at the stake?  Admit it, Mother, they are going to try and kill me."  She scowled.  "Jonathan wouldn't dare."

            Her mother grabbed both of her elbows and forced her to look up.  "Yes he would, Alianne, that's what I'm telling you.  He would kill you without a moment of reluctance.  You have tried to overthrow him, and been unsuccessful."  She shook her head disbelievingly.  "You are so unbelievably selfish!  How can you do this to us?  You do realize that with you so involved with this you've not only placed your own life on the line, but mine, your father's, and your brothers' as well?"

            "What do I care?" Alianne retorted.  "I am the queen of the Copper Isles, and you four are nothing.  Nobodies.  Complete nonentities.  And Jonathan, according to unbreakable foreign policy laws, is forbidden to lay a hand on me.  Of course, technically, he's already broken that.  But if he kills me, I swear he won't last a week."  She glanced at the ceiling, and burst into tears.  "Gods, I'm so scared...I'm too young to die!  Mother, I'm only 18.  I haven't even lived my life yet...it's too soon."

            Her mother held her while she sobbed silently, her body wracking violently.  When she was finished crying, Alianne pulled back and looked her straight in the eye.  "I didn't mean what I said, before I ran away.  I want you to know that...I've always loved you more than anyone."

            Alanna sighed.  "I know.  And I...I'm sorry.  For what I said and did.  After all, it was just hair dye, right?  I mean, there are worse things in the world."

            "Being locked in a dungeon for treason and attempted regicide is definitely one of them.  But why live in the past?"  She grinned.  "There are so many things I regret, so many things I would take back.  And yet, everything I have done has been for the greater good.  But that's not enough, is it?"

            In the streets, the people rejoiced when they heard the verdict of the trial, if could even be called that.  When they began to erect the scaffold on Traitor's Hill, over a thousand turned out that very day to watch.  All of this Alan watched from a slight distance, careful not to appear at all concerned that his sister had been declared an enemy of the realm, and was to die at the stake, burned like a witch.  In fact, he acted as happy as the rest of the courtiers, celebrating to no end.  He observed his parents and brother doing the same, mystifying the rest of the court.  He rolled his eyes and decided not to care.

            He was shocked one night when an unidentified visitor came to his rooms.  Though wary, he allowed the person to come in.  When the door was locked, and they were alone, the person threw back his hood.  It was his brother-in-law.

            "You son of a bitch," Alan snapped.  "You left like a gods be damned coward and now my sister is going to die because of it.  How can you even face me?"

            Casimiro held up his hands in defense.  "Ask your sister.  She understands everything we do now.  You see, using the full army to defeat Jonathan in Persopolis would have been foolish, for then we would have met resistance up north.  But if we can conquer him in the capital...then we control the nation."

            "And you're telling me this why?"

            "Because your sister loves and trusts you.  She claims that you will not betray us, and I believe her.  Please, do not prove me wrong here."

            Alan raised an eyebrow.  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

            Casimiro grinned evilly.  "Let me begin to explain…"

A/N: Now, I know this chapter absolutely SUCKS, and it's so unbelievably short, but I've divided it into two parts, as you can see above.  Nice little Alanna/Alianne reunion there…and the cliffhanger at the end turns out to be pretty tight.  I just wanted to prove that I haven't forgotten this fic in the least, I promise!  The next part will be totally longer!!!  Ahhhhh, school is SO much harder this year!  I'm DYING!!!

GO READ MY NEW STORY, TRAGIC KINGDOM!!!  It's seriously ten times better than this one!!!


	11. Out With the Old, In With the New 2

Part Ten-Out With the Old, In With the New (2)

            "Gods, you can't do this!  Tell that son of a bitch that he can't do this!  He won't last a week if he kills me!"

            Alianne slumped back down in the cell, tears falling down her face.  Her hands were trembling as she twisted the diamond wedding ring around her finger again and again.  

            "I'm too young to die," she whispered.  "Goddess, save me please.  Spare me just this once."  But her pleas were going unanswered.  She was to die on Traitor's Hill in only two hours.  Soon, she found that she could not cry anymore, though her body still wracked with supressed sobs.  But by the time the women came for her, she had calmed herself down enough to keep sane.

            They led her to a chamber where she took what priestess among them called a purifying bath.  Alianne shivered violently as they pored the icy water over her head, at the same time savoring the cold.  She would find herself begging for it very soon.  When the bath was done, she brushed her hair until it was dry, and pulled it up.  Her gown was white, simple, but beautiful.  When she was ready, the priestess bit her lip to keep from crying.

            "May the Goddess have mercy on you, my lady."

            Alianne met her eyes boldly.  "I cannot ask forgiveness for acts I do not regret.  And I die a queen...the greatest queen the Eastern Lands have ever seen.  I can think of nothing more honorable."

            The other maids and the priestess bowed as she swept regally out of the room where the guards were waiting to take her to her death.

            _Goddess, when will they stop this and just kill me?_ Alianne wondered as she stood, tied to the stake, standing on the pile of wood, and looking out over the massive crowd gathered to watch her burn.  The nobles sat in the normal seats set out for them on a raised platform.  Her scaffold had been raised so that all of the commoners could see her die.

            Finally, the faceless nobleman finished reading off the interminable scroll, and looked to Jonathan for a signal.  The king nodded, and several hooded men carrying torches came forward and lit the wood on fire.  For some odd reason, she felt relieved that it was at last beginning, and the nerve wracking wait was finally over.

            The smoke began to fill her nostrils and mouth, and the area around her feet was becoming uncomfortably warm.  Alianne smiled wryly, remembering that the guilty verdict had been a unanimous decision among the peerage, meaning that her own father and grandfather had both condemned her to death.  Her husband had left her, and she had been forsaken by her subjects.  Both of her brothers hated her, as did her mother.  _There's nothing left to live for,_ she thought.  But then, she saw her daughter's face as clear as day in her mind.

            _Oh, gods, Elena...I didn't even get to say goodbye._  The flames licked higher and higher, and she felt the lashing pain on her legs, all while biting her lip to keep from crying out.  That satisfaction she would not give them.  _I would give every throne on this planet to see her again, just once.  To be able to tell her just how much I love her._  

            Alianne winced.  The fire had reached her waist.  She couldn't resist anymore...she let out a bloodcurtling scream.  She felt the blackness clouding the edges of her vision.  "Jonathan of Conté," she screamed so that he would hear her.  "I swear by all the stars in heaven that you are cursed from this day forward!  Your children and your grandchildren will never succeed you, and they will leave this world as painfully as you do!  You will regret this!"

            And then she knew no more.

            Casimiro led the army into the city with a determination his men had never seen.  The Copper Islanders overwhelmed Corus and its inhabitants, making their way to Traitor's Hill swiftly.  He could smell the smoke on the air and knew that he might be too late.  Next to him, Antonio looked at the scaffold and swore.  The queen was halfway engulfed in flames, and she was unconscious.  Casimiro nodded and gestured to several of his men, who fought off the Tortallan guards and doused the flames using magic.  They cut the badly burned girl from the stake.

            Chaos reigned.  The nobles shrieked and attempted to run to the palace.  Within five minutes, all of the Tortallan soldiers were dead, and Jonathan was in the hands of the Copper Islanders.  Casimiro fought as ferociously and bravely as any of his men, cutting his way through the crowds to get to the scaffold...and his wife.

            Alan slipped through the ranks of the Copper Isles soldiers unnoticed, trying to reach his brother-in-law.  Casimiro, however, was quite engrossed in his quest to see if Alianne was still alive.  Alan seriously doubted it, but he kept his fingers crossed just in case.  He looked all around him at the chaos ensuing and tried not to cry out in frustration.  All of this mess for a throne, a bloody throne.  It seemed to him a terrible waste.  

            He brushed away several commoners, still trying to reach the king.  He had his sword drawn, cutting down anyone who came too close.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he reached the scaffold, ironically at the same time as Casimiro.  The older man rushed up the steps, and over to his unconscious wife, Alan right behind him.  Right when he saw his twin, he knew things were bad.  She was practically bathed in blood, and she wasn't breathing.  

            Antonio was right behind them.  "_Mon Dieu_," he whispered reverently.  "She's dead."

A/N:  Well, that has to be the shortest chapter this fic has ever seen.  In case you couldn't tell, this one, Part 9, and Part 11 are all one chapter, only split into three parts.  I just keep coming up with good cliffhangers for y'all.  Anyway, the next chapter or the one after that is most likely the last, with an epilogue of course.  And I _might_ do a spin-off about Alianne and Casimiro's daughter, Elena.  

Now, because the chapter is so short, y'all probably think I'm getting lazy.  _Au contraire_, I'm actually working quite hard on this one!  It's just, I've also got _Tragic Kingdom_ (read it, dammit...it gets better!), _The Woman Who Rides Like a Man: Reader's Digest Edition,_ AND _Real World: Corus_ (yes, I AM coming back to that one eventually) to work on.  Plus all my schoolwork and crap like that...it's all _très__ horrible_.  Plus, I'm thinking of transferring schools at the semester break, so I've got all that crap to worry about.  Not to mention I have a major ballet performance coming up, AND my band concert.  _Mon Dieu_, I don't want to even START thinking about midterms!  Ahhhh!  I'm going crazy!  (Crazy insane, or insane crazy?)

Hehe, this author's note is longer than the chapter!  So, just review and all that jazz.  _Bien__ sûr_, constructive criticism is always welcome!  _Au revoir, mes amis!  Je vous aime!  J'adore parler français!  J'aime Prince William!  J'aime Christian Coulson!_  Ooooh, another thing…my cousin was named by _The Washington Post _one of the players to watch this season in high school girls basketball.  And my school's male varsity team was ranked #9 in the nation by _USA Today_!


	12. An End, of Sorts

Part Eleven-An End, of Sorts

            _She found herself in a green meadow, dotted with colorful flowers.  The air smelled sweet and fresh, like just after a spring rain.  She felt...relaxed, a feeling not experienced for quite some time.  A woman lounged on the top of a hill, basking in the sunlight.  Laughing merrily, she called, gesturing towards her._

_                "Isn't it a glorious day?" the woman asked.  She was tall, with striking features, moonglow skin, bright emerald eyes, and long black hair.  "Welcome, my daughter."_

_                "I'm afraid I don't understand...where am I?"_

_                The woman smiled gently.  "Do not be afraid, my child.  You are in a paradise."_

_                She frowned.  "Where is my daughter?  I want to see my daughter!  Please, whoever you are, send me back!"_

_                The woman sighed, and reached out her hands, touching her forehead with cool fingers.  "Goodbye for now, then, my dear."_

            She felt cool.  After a memory of hot, flashing pain, that feeling was welcomed happily.  She also heard voices, hushed voices, speaking near her.  She tried to open her eyes, but everything was blurry, so she quickly shut them again, and drifted back into sleep.

            But no more dreams came.  She was awakened by new voices, ones she could comprehend.

            "I'm surprised she's lasted this long, Majesty.  There's little we can do for her now."

            "You're a healer, by the Goddess, so heal her!" came the angry reply.  "She's alive, I know it, and she'll stay alive!  Just do your damn job!"

            The other man sighed deeply.  "We _are_ trying, Your Majesty.  We will do everything we are capable of to keep her alive."

            She turned her head slightly, and opened her eyes.  Though the sight was blurry and incomprehensible, she forced herself to keep them open.  Slowly, things began to come back into focus.  Suddenly, her husband knelt beside the bed and took her hand.

            "Gods, you're alive!"

            Alianne managed a weak smile.  "Barely," she whispered, her voice shaky.  "I feel awful."

            "They've treated all of the burns," Casimiro replied, looking at her solemnly.  "You should be back to normal very soon."

            "W-where am I?  What happened to the Tortallans?"

            He looked away.  "There was a battle...a vicious one.  Many are dead, including my cousin Enrique."

            "Oh, I'm so sorry.  Catalina will be heartbroken."

            "I-I know."

            She paled.  "What's wrong?"

            "Jonathan is dead."

            Alianne smiled.  "But that means we won, right?"  She looked at his crestfallen face.  "Right, Casimiro?"

            "It looked as if we would win," he answered dejectedly.  "And we did, thought not totally.  Most of the nobles, including Meron, now call us monarchs.  But because we were forced to retreat from Corus by the mob, others do not call us their rightful king and queen."

            "So Roald still rules."

            He nodded.  "Yes, but a _much_ smaller country.  Almost a fourth of the size it was before."

            "Then he is king of Tortall in name only," Alianne remarked thoughtfully.  "And by somehow connecting ourselves with them, then we could strengthen our claim to that throne."

            "Exactly.  I was thinking Elena.  We marry her to this little Tortallan prince now, and then she can grow up here.  It's perfect."

            She smiled.  "You're right...Roald won't stand a chance."

            Seven months later, Alianne paced her chambers furiously.  After having waited almost nine months, she was sick of carrying the baby.  Thought she knew it was foolish, she was begging the child to come out.  Within a second, she would be on her knees.

            Catalina entered quietly.  She smiled at the sight of the queen so distressed.  "Any day now, Your Majesty.  I swear, the little prince is as ready to be born as you will him to be."

            "Oh, I wish.  Any word from Tortall?"

            "Your husband sends his greetings.  He is in Persopolis at the moment, helping sort out a tribal dispute."

            She frowned.  "I wish he could have been here.  It would have been so much easier.  But I suppose he has to go over there from time to time."

            "Begging Your Majesty's pardon," Catalina began reluctantly, "but is it all right for you to receive a visitor?"

            "Oh, gods, I suppose.  Everyone's already seen me as fat as I am."  She smiled wryly.  "Just show them in."

            The lady curtseyed low and exited.  Soon after she'd left, what seemed to be a silk-clad lord rushed through her door.

            Oh wait, it _was_ a silk-clad lord.  Her twin brother, to be exact.  Alan, now duke of Olau (on his grandfather's death and his inheritance, Casimiro had elevated him to one of the highest-ranking members at either court), grinned when he saw her.  "You look worse for wear," he exclaimed, and seized her in a hug.  "Gods, you're fat."

            "I'm almost nine months pregnant, you dimwit," Alianne snapped.  "What d'you expect me to be, emaciated?"

            "I'm just teasing.  You look beautiful, sister."

            She smiled.  "You flatter me."

            "Oh, I suppose," Alan replied lightly, as he poured himself a glass of wine.  "It was a dreadful trip over.  We were hit by a nasty storm at the halfway point."

            "I wondered why you weren't here yet."

            "Yes, speaking of that, why am I here?"

            Alianne shrugged.  "Moral support, I suppose.  Since Casimiro's been away so long, you were the next closest person.  I mean, the rest of our family's barely _speaking_ to me."

            He grinned at that.  "Actually, they don't really mind you.  Well, Thom hates you, but he's just like that.  Join the club...he hates me too.  Calls me a 'gods be damned traitor.'  That is, when he acknowledges my existence, of course.  It's not so hard to avoid him, though; we have _very_ different friends."

            "Hmm, interesting.  Frankly, you _are_ a traitor, though I wouldn't damn the gods while saying so."

            Alan's eyes widened innocently.  "Just because I helped Casimiro sneak that army into the city doesn't make me a traitor!"

            Alianne looked back at him and shook her head.  "You are impossible, you know that?"

            "Well, you've told me that almost every day since we were five, so, yes, I've got the picture."  He grinned, and held out his arm.  "Well, sister mine, will you show me your beautiful palace?"

            She took it.  "Absolutely."

            The baby came in the middle of the night.  As she laid back, exhausted, against the pillows, Alianne found herself reaching out instinctively for the child.  "Well?"

            "It's a boy," the midwife answered.  Alianne let out a sigh of relief, and looked up at Catalina, still holding her hand.

            "His name will be Enrique," she announced.  Catalina smiled sadly and leaned over to kiss her cheek.  "Thank you," she whispered.  "He would have been so honored."

            Alianne nodded.  "I know."  She turned and summoned a servant.  "Alert the courtiers that a prince has been born.  And have one of the couriers send a message to His Majesty in Persopolis."  She turned back to the baby and sighed with relief that he looked almost exactly like his uncle Alan, complete with his blond hair and bright green eyes.  _No one need ever know now,_ she thought with relief.  _No one ever _will_ know..._

            And yet, will they?

A/N: It's not complete, not yet anyway.  That's just another wonderful cliffhanger for y'all.  There will probably be another couple of chapters for this fic, though I don't actually know what they're going to be about…*sighs* Oh well.  Yeah, so, review!  *winks* Since I'm in a uber-good mood, cause we've had TWO five-day weekends in a row (Thanksgiving, then snow days), I'm going on a posting spree!  Yay!  Plus, I'm almost done with this fic, which makes me sad and excited at the same time.  Though, I know I'll have fun writing the one about Elena.

Love,

Anne Boleyn ^_~* 


	13. Final Note and Thank You's

Part Twelve-Final Note and Thank You's

            Ok, so I lied.  I actually like where that chapter ended up...it leaves the end nice and open for the next story, entitled _Fire and Ice, and it's going to be about all of Alianne and Casimiro's children...well, all three of them anyway.  (Yes, I'm planning on them having another daughter)  So, yeah, those are my writing plans for the next several months.  The sequel to this, since it is about three different people (though the main-main character is Elena...Enrique and Marcela don't come in until towards the middle), is going to be __way longer!  I'm probably going to be trying for Sulia-length chapters...I am assuming y'all have read ICBW, of course.  If you haven't, drop everything and read it now.  It's one of the best Tammy fanfics (if not THE best) of all time!!!_

            I also have _Tragic Kingdom to work on, which is most likely going to be my longest fic, as it takes place over a total of over twenty years.  *laughs*  I love writing it, though...and it __does get better later on.  I just have to go through all of the introduction crap.  I'm most definitely going to change the rating on that to R pretty soon here, cause there are parts of it that are...adult.  If you catch my drift.  *nudge nudge, wink wink*  There will most definitely not be a sequel to that one, unless people bug me enough.  The ending is waaaaayyy too final.  _

            Yeah, so, enough about that.  Time to say thank you...writing this fic has been an amazingly fun experience to me.  Who would have thought that on that crazily boring day at work this summer?  You reviewers...damn, y'all are the best!  Seriously...I think I like you more than my own best friend!!!  *prays that Dianna isn't reading this*  Nah, it's more of an equal thing.  But you guys really are amazing.  You have no idea how many bad days, suspensions (LOL), bad test grades, and just horrible times in general y'all have gotten me through.  It's lovely to come home from an utterly crap day at school and read the sweet things you have written!!!  I LUV Y'ALL!!!  Another huge thank you to the cast and crew of _The Mummy Returns for inspiring this fic, though I'm still not sure how exactly I got the plot from that movie...oh well!  Another huge thanks to Philippa Gregory, whose fantastic book __The Other Boleyn Girl really introduced me to the amazing woman of Anne Boleyn, the basis for the character of Alianne.  _

            Spoiler time!!!  Ok, now y'all are asking, what is going to happen to Elena?  Is she evil like her mother?  The answer to that is unfortunately no.  She wants nothing more than to be happy in life.  Her sister, on the other hand, is another matter.  Marcela (Marcie) is turning out to be practically identical to Alianne...Elena is entirely more like a Catherine Howard-ish figure, though she most likely won't be beheaded for adultery.  Hmm, actually, that's a really good idea!!!  Enrique is…I haven't decided yet.  He will, however, be very magically gifted.  His father is you-know-who, after all!

            So again, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING!  _Fire and Ice should be up today!!!_

Hugs and Kisses,

Anne Boleyn  ^_~*


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